^ 


OSCAR  PETERSON 


RANCHMAN    AND   RANGER 


BY 

HENRY   WILLARD    FRENCH 

Author  of  "  Lance  of  Kanana." 


BOSTON 
D     LOTHROP     COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT    1893, 

BY 
D.  LOTHROP  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved. 


2072229 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

T.  COMING  EVENTS  CAST  THEIR  SHADOWS  1 

II.  WHO  FIRED  THAT  SHOT?    ...  11 

TIT.  Nuws  FROM  THE  MANSION  .         .         .  22 

IV.  OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY  .         .        .         .  33 

V.  BAGATAAVA  ......  44 

VI.  NOT  FOR  GOLD                            '  .  67 

VII.  AT  THE  RANCH-HOUSE        .         .         .  82 

VIII.  BRIGHTER  PROSPECTS          .         .         .  97 

IX.  WITH  SHOT-GUN  AND  RIFLE       .        .  108 

X.  OVER'THE  PRAIRIE      .         .         .         .  131 

XI.  OSCAR  HAS  A  PERSONAL  EXPERIENCE  153 

XII.  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS    OF 

DAKOTA        .         .         .         .         .173 

XIII.  A  DOUBTFUL  HOST      ....  192 

XIV.  DEAD  OR  ALIVE 224 

XV.     DEADWOOD 256 

XVI.  THE  INDIAN  QUESTION        ...  291 

XVII.  THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRAIL     ...  325 

XVIII.  THE  MAN  INSII.I:          ....  343 

XIX.  "I  AM  AFRAID  TO  DIE''      ...  361 

XX.  THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE  373 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Held  Up! Frontis. 

The  First  Wolf 5 

The  Missing  Heel 9 

"  Who  Fired  that  Shot?  " 13 

A  Fight  for  Life         ....  16 

"  Wcnononee,  Shut  the  Door!" 23 

Oscar's  Two  Friends 34 

The  Squaw's  Cabin 37 

A  Conversation   Without  Words 47 

The  Slack  Against  the   White 53 

Bayatawa 62 

Black  Dog  and  his  Squaw         ......  65 

"  Were   You  Shaking  your  Fist  at  Me?"        .                 .  71 

"  Wenononee  !  " 78 

Upon  his  Mission 81 

Weno  and  Sancho      ........  91 

Weno  Paused,  to  Gather  Courage    .....  93 

The  Indian  Messenger        .        .        .         .         .         .         .  104 

He  Turned  to  Run 113 

On  the  Lake 118 

Every  Head  Was  Lifted 121 

Six  Inches  from  the  Mark 127 

It    Was  an  Indian 150 


ILL  UK  Tit  A  T10NS. 

A   Withered  Old  Medicine-man  Appeared          .        .         .  159 

"  That  Will  Do "...        V;        ...  164 

Panza  Settles  the  Question 170 

Oscar  Looked  Eagerly  Forward        .        .  174 

A  Run  to  the  Dairy mple  Farm         .        .        .  jgg 

"  That's  what  I  call  Farming "         .        ...        .        .  190 

Old  Settlers         .        .        .        .        .        .        .  jg^. 

The.  Prairie  Post-Office 215 

Dead  or  Alive     .......  227 

They  Emerged  from  the  Gulch 253 

Meeting  on  the  Deadwood  Trail        .        .        .        .   .'     .  260 

"  Only  Waiting  for  a  Shore" 263 

They  Entered  Deadwood    .        .        .        .-•'-.        .        .  2G5 

' '  The,  Boy   Was  Crying "  .         .         .        .                 .        .  286 

The  Last  of  Deadwood  Gnlch    .         .         .         .         .         .  293 

"Steering  over  the  Trackless  Plain"        .        .        .        .  303 

"Looking  iip  the  Gorge" .  305 

He  Was  Pulling  off  his  P>oots  .        .        .        .        .        .  312 

"He  Won't  Do  It  Again"         .        .        .        ...  317 

The  Cowboys'  Serenade      .        .        .        .        ....  323 

A  Real  Cow-town       .        .        .        .        .        .  -      .        .  327 

"  That's  what  We  Shall  Indulge  In ''                .        .        .  338 

"lam  Oscar  Peterson" 366 


OSCAR   PETERSON: 

RANCHMAN    AND    RANGER. 


CHAPTER   I. 

COMING    EVENTS    CAST   THEIR    SHADOWS. 

"  WHO'D  have  thought  the  snow  could  be  so  deep  ? 
When  I  left  England  the  grass  was  green,"  said  Oscar 
Peterson. 

His  father  smiled  as  they  tramped  along  together 
through  the  dense  forests  on  the  north  shore  of  Mani- 
toba Lake,  where  the  snow  still  lay  in  drifts  in  the 
shaded  hollows,  and  his  face  showed  every  sign  of 
pride  as  he  watched  his  only  child  —  a  strong,  sturdy 
boy  of  sixteen.  Oscar's  mother  died  in  that  wild 
frontier  country  when  he  was  a  baby.  For  five  years 
he  had  been  cared  for  by  an  Indian  nurse,  then  for 
ten  years  he  had  been  at  school  in  England,  and  now 
he  had  returned  for  a  year  before  finishing  his  course. 

"  The  banks  of  the  Thames  at  Oxford,  and  these 
1 


2  COMING    EVENTS    CAST    THEIR   SHADOWS. 

forests  are  two  very  different  places,  Oscar,"  he  replied. 
"  The  grass  is  growing  green  about  the  village,  you 
know,  and  in  a  few  days  more  wild  flowers  will  be  in 
bloom  right  where  these  snowdrifts  are.  Don't  make 
up  your  mind  to  be  disappointed  with  Manitoba  till 
you  have  time  to  become  a  little  better  acquainted." 

"  Look  here,  father,  I'm  no  tenderfoot,"  Oscar  said, 
laughing  as  he  spoke  the  name  commonly  applied  to 
newcomers.  "  I'll  be  tougher,  of  course,  when  I  get 
my  sea-legs  on  ;  but  don't  you  forget  that  I  was  born 
on  the  shores  of  Manitoba  Lake,  and  that  I'm  just  as 
much  a  part  of  this  country  as  an  Indian.  The  day 
after  I  got  home  I  was  out  in  the  sheephouse,  and  I 
saw  that  old  sign  which  you  carved  for  me.  Don  t 
you  remember  it  ?  It  was  '  Oscar  Peterson  :  Ranch- 
man and  Ranger.'  You  nailed  it  up  for  me  over  the 
shed  end  of  the  little  log  cabin  we  lived  in  then.  I 
tell  you  I  was  just  proud  of  it ;  and  while  I  stood 
looking  at  it,  the  whole  time  between  seemed  to  vanish. 
The  ten  years  in  Oxford  were  like  a  dream.  It  was  a 
bang-up  dream,  and  I've  learned  lots  that  will  help  me 
all  my  life  ;  but  when  you  come  right  down  to  facts, 
it's  hurrah  for  Manitoba  every  day  of  the  week,  and 
I'm  Oscar  Peterson,  ranchman  and  ranger,  and  you 
see  if  I  don't  make  a  good  one." 

"  I'm  thinking  you'd  make  a  good  one,  Oscar,  what- 
ever you  undertook,"  replied  his  father.  "  Try  that, 
for  instance." 


COMING    EVENTS    CAST   THEIR   SHADOWS. 

The  words  were  not  spoken  when  Oscar's  rifle  was 
at  his  shoulder.  It  flashed,  and  a  duck  fell  flopping 
in  the  snow. 

"I  told  you  so,"  Mr.  Peterson  observed,  smiling. 
"  I  shall  be  rather  surprised,  but  very  glad,  if  you  con- 
tinue to  like  this  life  after  the  novelty  is  worn  off. 
Study  has  a  tendency  to  make  a  boy  feel  too  fine  for 
frontier  slang  and  high-topped  boots,  but  it  doesn't 
hurt  him  for  them  in  any  other  respect ;  and  I  tell 
you  the  wise  development  of  a  new  country  is  the 
grandest  thing  a  fellow  can  do  for  the  world,  and  for 
those  who  come  after  him." 

"  I'd  have  come  back  before  if  you'd  let  me,"  Oscar 
replied,  shaking  the  snow  from  the  duck  and  tying  it. 

"  Indeed  I  did  not  want  you  to,"  said  his  father. 
"  Every  hour  at  Oxford  will  help  you  at  ranching  and 
ranging,  if  you  care  to  turn  it  that  way.  I  should  not 
have  asked  you  to  come  back  even  for  a  year,  only 
that  I  needed  you  so  much.  The  fact  is,  I  took  up  a 
mining  claim  in  the  States,  and  put  a  man  in  charge 
who  was  very  well  recommended  to  me.  I  have  heard 
that  the  mine  has  turned  out  something  wonderful,  but 
I  suspect  that  the  agent  is  a  fraud.  I  must  go  down 
and  see  to  it.  I  may  be  gone  only  a  month,  or  it  may 
be  all  summer,  and  while  I  am  away  you  must  take 
charge  of  the  property  here.  Experience  is  the  best 
teacher,  so  you  had  better  run  everything  just  as  you 
like.  It  will  be  the  quickest  way  to  learn  to  run  them 


4  COMING    EVENTS    CAST   THEIR    SHADOWS. 

right.  I  wrote  to  the  agent  that  I  should  leave  here 
this  month ;  but  I  did  not  say  anything  to  you  about 
it  before,  for  I  didn't  want  you  to  have  a  chance  to 
get  too  much  advice  eut  of  me." 

A  low  whistle  was  Oscar's  only  response,  as  he 
slung  the  duck  over  his  shoulder.  "  The  property  " 
had  been  wonderfully  transformed  since  he  left  it,  ten 
years  before.  Instead  of  the  pioneer's  log  cabin,  he 
found  his  father  living  in  a  substantial  stone  house,  on 
the  brow  of  a  butte  overlooking  the  lake.  Instead  of 
the  clearing  that  surrounded  the  cabin,  he  found  one 
of  the  finest  stock  farms  in  the  province.  Instead  of 
a  few  huts  and  wigwams  on  the  lake  shore,  there  was 
a  practical  little  village,  with  its  store,  its  church,  and 
its  doctor.  Instead  of  vague  prospects  of  ore  in  the 
wild  lands  at  the  north,  there  were  several  successfully 
operated  mines.  Instead  of  buffalo  and  Indians  over 
the  broad  prairie  to  the  south  and  west,  there  were 
great  fields  of  wheat  near  the  village,  and  farther 
away  herds  of  cattle  belonging  to  his  father  were  pas- 
tured. They  had  come  up  the  lake  in  their  yacht  to 
select  a  site  for  a  saw  mill,  to  open  another  industry. 
All  of  this  was  included  when  his  father  said,  "  While  I 
am  away  you  must  take  charge  of  the  property  here." 
No  wonder  Oscar's  only  response  was  a  low  whistle. 

The  whistle  was  cut  short  by  a  series  of  yelps,  and 
short,  sharp  barks,  followed  by  the  piercing  shriek  of 
a  horse. 


THE   KIKST    \\<>I,F. 


COMING   EVENTS   CAST   THEIR   SHADOWS.  7 

"  Wolves  !  "  muttered  Mr.  Peterson.  ';  And  hun- 
gry ones.  They've  got  a  horse.  I  wonder  who  brought 
him  up  here  at  this  season  ?  Come  on !  " 

Hurrying  forward,  with  their  rifles  ready,  they  en- 
tered a  gorge  where  the  snow  lay  deeper,  and  soon 
approached  a  rude  log  wigwam.  Beyond  the  tepee  a 
horse  lay  on  the  ground,  just  breathing  his  last,  with 
four  large  wolves  already  beginning  their  feast. 

"  Indians  ? "  Oscar  asked,  as  they  paused  for  a 
moment  behind  the  tepee. 

"  Not  now,"  replied  his  father.  "  Indians  may  have 
built  it,  but  the  snow  lies  over  the  smoke  hole.  They 
have  not  been  there  for  a  long  time.  That  is  no  In- 
dian pony,  either.  I  think  it  belongs  to  Black-dog, 
a  half-breed,  who  works  at  the  mines,  and  I  wonder 
how  it  came  up  here  ?  " 

"  Can't  we  get  a  shot  at  the  wolves,  father?  "  Oscar 
asked,  cautiously  peeking  about  the  wigwam. 

His  father  hesitated  a  moment.  His  face  showed 
that  he  was  troubled ;  but  quickly  recovering  himself 
he  said,  "  Why,  yes,  if  you  want  to  ;  and  of  course 
you  do.  I  forgot  that  you  had  not  had  shooting  all 
your  life.  If  we  can  do  it  without  disturbing  them, 
let's  climb  to  the  top  of  the  tepee.  Come  carefully. 
Keep  well  on  this  side.  There !  Have  you  a  good 
place  ?  " 

"  Jolly,"  Oscar  replied  in  a  whisper,  as  he  balanced 
himself  and  leveled  his  gun.  "  Which  shall  I  take  ?  " 


8  COMING   EVENTS   CAST   THEIR   SHADOWS. 

"  Take  the  fellow  at  the  throat  with  one  barrel,  then 
swing  over  to  the  one  next  him,  on  the  shoulder.  I'll 
wait,  and  if  you  kill  them  both  I'll  take  another." 

Oscar  fired  as  his  father  directed,  and  each  wolf 
with  a  savage  yelp  rolled  over  into  the  snow.  One  of 
the  remaining  fellows  evidently  knew  what  the  report 
of  a  rifle  meant,  for,  like  a  flash,  he  bounded  away  into 
the  forest.  The  other  stopped  to  look  up  at  the  top 
of  the  tepee  and  show  his  teeth,  with  an  ugly  growl. 
The  next  instant  he,  too,  was  stretched  out  upon  the 
snow. 

"  Now  let's  be  quick  about  the  skins,  Oscar,"  his 
father  said,  slipping  down  from  the  tepee,  "  for  it's 
getting  late,  and  it  will  take  us  till  long  after  dark  to 
beat  back  against  the  wind,  unless  it  changes." 

Oscar  followed  him,  and  they  were  not  long  in  hav- 
ing the  three  skins  tied  in  a  bundle,  with  the  skull  left 
upon  one  of  them,  to  use  the  brains  in  dressing  them. 

"  Seems  to  me  the  skins  are  the  heaviest  parts  of 
animals,"  Oscar  said,  as  they  put  a  pole  through  the 
cord  to  carry  the  bundle  between  them.  His  father 
did  not  reply  at  once.  He  was  examining  the  horse. 
"  It  is  Black-dog's,  as  sure  as  fate,"  he  was  saying  to 
himself.  "  Four  white  feet,  the  top  of  his  right  ear 
cut  off,  and  a  hump  on  his  hip.  I  don't  believe  Black- 
dog  himself  ever  left  him  here. " 

They  started  at  a  rapid  pace  for  the  lake,  but  a  little 
later  Mr.  Peterson  laid  down  the  pole,  and  going  to 


COMING    EVENTS    CAST    THEIR    SHADOWS. 


9 


one  side  bent  forward  to  examine  a  track  in  the  snow. 
As  Oscar  came  up  he  said  :  "  That  boot  was  made  in 
the  States,  but  it  has  one  of  Wawanka's  slug-holds  on 
the  heel.  Somebody  from  the  States  must  have  been 
at  the  village  not  very  long  ago,  for  the  slug  is  sharp, 


THE   MISSING   HEEL. 


and  that  boot  would  not  last  to  do  much    tramping 
through  these  forests." 

"Here's  a  track  without  any  hold,  father,"  Oscar 
said  ;  and  his  father,  examining  it,  replied  :  "  It  has  no 
heel,  either.  See !  every  other  one  is  that  way.  The 
slug  on  one  boot  must  have  dug  into  a  log  and  torn 


10  COMING    EVENTS    CAST   THEIR    SHADOWS. 

the  heel  off.  I  told  you  those  boots  would  not  last 
long  here.  " 

Oscar's  eyes  were  busy  in  an  instant,  and  following 
the  trail  back  a  little  way,  he  called  to  his  father  that 
he  had  found  it,  and  with  his  hunting  knife  pried  the 
lost  heel  from  the  log  where  the  slug  had  caught.  He 
examined  it  for  a  moment,  and  was  about  to  throw  it 
away  when  his  father  said  :  "  Put  it  in  your  pocket, 
Oscar.  These  tracks  may  have  been  made  by  some 
one  who  has  been  stealing  horses. " 

They  picked  up  the  skins  and  went  on,  but  Oscar 
noticed  that  the  troubled  look  did  not  leave  his  father's 
face ;  that  he  did  not  speak  again,  and  that  he  kept  a 
very  close  watch  in  every  direction  as  they  advanced. 
The  incidents  did  not  seem  to  him  to  amount  to  any- 
thing at  the  time,  but  before  long  he  was  glad  to  recall 
even  the  most  trifling  of  them  as  something  of  very 
grave  importance. 


CHAPTER  II. 

WHO    FIRED    THAT    SHOT? 

THE  skins  and  duck  were  safely  disposed  in  the 
yacht.  The  sail  and  jib  were  set.  The  rifles  were 
carefully  placed  in  the  stern.  Oscar  stood  with  Ki 
foot  on  the  rail,  with  a  boat-hook  in  his  hand,  holding 
her  to  the  rock  upon  which  his  father  was  still  stand- 
ing, when  his  eye  caught  a  mass  of  tawny  fur  half-way 
up  the  trunk  of  a  pine-tree  that  had  been  broken  at 
the  roots,  but  was  still  standing,  leaning  against  its 
fellows.  "  O,  father  !  what  a  shot,"  he  cried.  "Look 
at  that  bear  climbing  a  tree." 

"  That  is  not  a  bear,  Oscar,  it  is  a  "  -  Mr.  Peter- 
son paused  abruptly,  and  Oscar  felt  a  gust  of  cold 
wind  strike  his  face,  and  saw  his  father  look  quickly 
toward  the  sky.  "  How  those  clouds  are  piling  up  !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  It  means  a  blizzard  if  it  means  any- 
thing, and  we  don't  get  home  without  a  struggle." 

"  Oh  !  but,  father,  can't  I  have  just  one  pop  ?  I'll 
come  back  to-morrow  for  the  skin,"  Oscar  pleaded ; 

11 


12  WHO    FIRED    THAT    SHOT? 

but  another  gust  of  icy-cold  wind  struck  his  face  at 
that  instant,  taking  his  breath  away,  and  making  the 
yacht  reel  till  he  almost  lost  his  hold.  "  Guess  you're 
right,  father,"  he  gasped,  tugging  on  the  boat-hook. 
"  Better  jump  aboard,  quick !  " 

Mr.  Peterson  sprang  on  to  the  yacht,  but  stood  for 
a  moment  looking  anxiously  back  into  the  forest. 
Oscar  let  her  go,  and  was  bending  forward  adjusting 
the  boat-hook  when  the  sharp  report  of  a  rifle  rang 
upon  the  air. 

As  Oscar  sprang  to  his  feet  and,  catching  his  rifle, 
threw  it  to  his  shoulder,  Mr.  Peterson  sank  upon  the 
bottom  of  the  yacht  and  leaned  back  against  the  stern 
seat.  One  quick  glance  told  him  that  his  father  was 
wounded,  but  not  killed. 

"  Who  fired  that  shot  ?  "  he  ejaculated,  and  stood 
with  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  and  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
a  point  in  the  forest  where  a  thin  white  cloud  of  smoke 
was  curling  away  among  the  trees. 

"  It  was  a  mistake.  A  friendly  Indian.  The  ball 
glanced,"  his  father  said,  in  short,  gasping  sentences. 
"  It  is  not  serious.  Get  out  of  this  cove.  Be  quick !  " 

"  It  was  not  a  mistake,  father,  and  it  was  not  an 
Indian,"  Oscar  replied,  without  moving.  "Just  let 
me  see  the  tip  of  his  shoulder." 

"  Coward  !  "  he  shouted  ;  "  come  out  from  behind 
those  trees." 

"  If  you  wait  for  him  to  load  he  will  fire  again  if 


WHO    FIRED    THAT    SHOT? 


18 


he  is  in  earnest.  You  make  a  good  mark  standing 
there,"  Mr.  Peterson  said,  in  a  weak  voice  ;  but  Oscar 
was  conscious  of  a  strange  feeling  which  he  had  never 
realized  before,  and  which  no  one  can  explain  or  un- 
derstand who  has  not  felt  it.  It  was  more  than  ven- 
geance and  far  more  than  revenge.  It  would  have 


\ 


"WHO    FIRED   THAT   SHOT?" 

held  him  there,  with  his  rifle  at  his  shoulder,  against 
all  advice  or  authority,  against  all  reason  and  in  the 
face  of  any  possible  danger,  in  the  one  hope  of  sight- 
ing that  rifle  upon  the  one  who  had  fired  the  shot  at 
his  father. 


14  WHO    FIRED   THAT    SHOT  ? 

Unnoticed,  however,  the  yacht  had  been  silently 
gliding  down  the  cove  under  the  effect  of  the  breeze 
and  the  circling  current.  The  forerunner  of  the  bliz- 
zard that  had  been  slashing  and  swaying  the  giant 
pines  dropped  suddenly.  Oscar  felt  the  icy  flaw  as  it 
struck  his  face.  The  same  instant  he  caught  the  flash 
of  a  rifle  to  the  right  of  where  he  was  looking.  Be- 
fore he  could  turn  sufficiently  to  fire,  before  he  heard 
the  report  even,  the  yacht  had  careened  till  her  rail 
lay  on  the  water,  and  Oscar  was  thrown  heavily  back- 
ward against  the  sail. 

.Quickly  recovering  himself,  Oscar  found  that  his 
father  had  caught  the  tiller  in  his  hand,  barely  saving 
them  from  capsizing,  while  a  bullet  had  cut  the  sail 
beside  him,  and  buried  itself  in  the  bundle  of  skins 
on  the  seat. 

"That  lurch  was  all  that  saved  you,"  his  father 
said,  as  Oscar  grasped  the  tiller  and  let  out  the  sail 
just  in  time  to  avoid  the  bristling  rocks  at  the  en- 
trance to  the  cove.  The  next  moment  the  yacht  swept 
out  on  to  the  lake  beyond  the  ledge,  and  out  of  sight 
of  any  one  in  the  forest,  upon  the  sheltered  bay.  But 
the  wind,  in  irregular,  fierce  and  fitful  gusts,  came 
tearing  down  the  lake  till  Oscar  could  hardly  hold 
her,  with  all  his  strength. 

"  Are  you  much  hurt,  father  ?  "  he  asked,  turning 
anxiously  to  his  father,  but  forced  to  look  back  again 
even  before  he  was  answered. 


WHO    FIRED   THAT    SHOT?  15 

"  Not  much,  I  hope,"  said  Mr.  Peterson.  "  The 
ball  struck  my  side,  a  little  above  my  hip.  I  am  glad 
you  are  here.  Don't  mind  me  now.  You  can't  do 
much  more  than  watch  the  yacht.  I'll  get  up  forward, 
out  of  the  way." 

For  a  moment  the  wind,  though  still  fierce,  had  been 
steady,  and  setting  the  course  so  that  there  should  be 
clear  sailing  room  ahead,  Oscar  made  the  ropes  and 
tiller  fast,  and  helped  his  father.  Mr.  Peterson  faintly 
warned  him  not  to,  but  he  had  hardly  strength  to 
speak,  much  less  to  get  forward  by  himself.  He  tried 
to  make  light  of  it,  that  Oscar  should  not  know,  but 
the  moment  he  reached  the  spot  he  sank,  unconscious, 
by  the  mast.  As  he  felt  himself  fainting  he  roused 
enough  to  whisper:  "Too  much  sail,  Oscar.  Be 
quick!" 

Indeed  he  had  to  be  very  quick.  Another  fierce 
flaw  had  struck  the  yacht.  He  drew  his  hunting 
knife  and  cut  the  tiller  free,  then  sprang  to  the  sail. 
There  was  no  time  to  unwind  the  ropes.  He  cut  them, 
too,  as  quickly  as  the  sharp  blade  could  sever  them. 
The  great  sail  bulged,  and  for  an  instant  Oscar 
thought  they  must  surely  go  over,  but  he  caught  the 
tiller  and  dragged  it  round  with  all  his  strength.  The 
sudden  motion  relieved  the  strain  for  an  instant,  and 
the  sail  came  rattling  down.  There  was  no  time  to 
stop  and  think  what  next  to  do,  however.  The  sud- 
den gust  was  not  followed  by  a  lull,  but  by  another 


16 


WHO   FIRED    THAT    SHOT  ? 


and  another,  each  fiercer  and  colder  than  the  last,  till 
the  wind  howled  and  roared  along  the  lake,  the  water 
flew  like  rain  from  the  tops  of  the  rising  waves,  and 
the  ropes  twanged  like  bowstrings.  Only  the  jib  was 
out,  but  the  strain  upon  that 
was  terrible.  He  tried  to  bring 
the  yacht  about  a  little  to  relieve 
it,  but  the  moment  the 
wind  caught  the  broadside 


A   FIGHT   FOR  LIFE. 


it  lifted  it  clear  out  of  the  water  till  the  lee  rail  dipped. 
Back  again  went  the  tiller  just  as  the  rudder  itself 
was  being  lifted  out  of  the  wrater,  and  before  the  jib 
could  break  away,  like  a  flash  Oscar  unwound  the  rope 
and  twisted  it  about  his  own  arm.  It  was  the  only 
way  that  he  could  manage  it. 


WHO    FIRED   THAT   SHOT?  17 

If  that  jib  or  jib  line  broke,  the  wind  would  roll 
them  over  as  it  pleased.  One  moment  he  must  let 
it  loose  to  save  it,  the  next  he  must  drag  upon  it 
for  his  very  life.  The  wind  blew  harder  and  harder, 
and  the  waves  rose  higher  and  higher,  till  suddenly  a 
torrent  of  icy  rain  broke  from  the  dense  clouds,  then 
changed  to  sleet,  then  to  snow,  and  then  to  rain  again, 
while  the  fierce  wind  froze  it  where  it  fell. 

Winding  the  rope  around  his  leg  to  hold  it,  Oscar 
tore  off  his  overcoat  and  leather  jacket,  and,  springing 
forward,  threw  them -over  his  father.  He  bent  down 
for  an  instant,  to  be  sure  that  he  was  breathing,  and 
back  again  to  his  post.  They  were  tossed  and  whirled 
from  wave  to  wave  in  the  blinding  rain  and  sleet.  Ice 
formed  on  the  ropes  and  rail,  and  icicles  hung  from 
the  sail  that  lay  in  a  mass  where  it  had  fallen. 

He  had  lost  his  hat  in  the  cove,  and  icicles  hung 
from  his  thick  brown  hair  as  he  sat  in  his  shirt  sleeves, 
drenched  to  the  skin,  holding  the  tiller  under  his  knee, 
and  tugging  upon  the  rope  that  was  twisted  round 
his  arm. 

"  There's  no  use  trying  to  run  ashore  this  side  of 
home,"  he  muttered.  "  It  would  only  mean  staying 
there  all  night,  and  we  might  as  well  go  to  the  bottom. 
No  !  I'll  keep  her  up  if  she'll  stand  it,  and  I'll  keep 
her  nose  toward  home." 

"We're  going  at  a  frightful  rate.  We  must  be 
almost  there,"  he  said  a  little  later,  to  cheer  himself  ; 


18  WHO    FIRED   THAT    SHOT? 

for  his  hands  were  so  numb  that  he  had  to  watch  them 
to  see  that  the  rope  was  held  fast  and  not  slipping 
through  his  fingers ;  and  it  began  to  be  evident  that 
he  could  not  hold  out  much  longer. 

The  yacht  reeled  and  trembled  as  it  leaped  forward 
in  its  desperate  struggle.  It  seemed  to  Oscar  that  he 
had  been  there  for  hours  when,  at  last,  through  the 
rain  and  sleet  he  discerned  the  faint  outline  of  the 
village,  far  in  the  distance,  and  a  little  to  his  right. 
He  shuddered  as  he  saw  how  hard  it  was  for  his  stiff- 
ened muscles  to  bend  and  change  the  course,  and  a 
dull,  cold  tremor  crept  over  him  with  the  conviction 
that  he  could  not  do  it.  Home  was  too  far  away. 
With  every  lurch  he  thought  the  yacht  was  going 
under,  and  it  began  to  seem  as  though  he  did  not  care 
much  if  she  did. 

What !  He  started  with  a  shiver.  Did  not  care  ? 
He  cast  one  quick  glance  toward  the  white,  still  face 
beside  the  mast.  Did  not  care  ?  "  The  wind  is  still 
rising.  It  is  not  that  I  am  giving  out,"  he  gasped. 
And  as  he  ground  his  teeth  he  muttered,  "  Oscar 
Peterson,  don't  you  dare  give  out !  Do  you  hear 
me?"  and  he  gave  the  rope  another  twist  about  his 
arm. 

What  was  that  ?  Was  some  one  calling  ?  He  lis- 
tened intently.  It  sounded  again.  Above  the  shriek- 
ing of  the  wind  he  heard  the  shrill  cry  which  an  Indian 
can  send  so  far.  His  eyes  were  almost  blinded  by 


WHO    FIRED   THAT    SHOT?  19 

the  storm,  but  after  searching  for  a  moment  he  dis- 
covered a  canoe  approaching  with  a  single  Indian.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  little  thing  must  swamp.  Every 
wave  that  rushed  toward  it  was  ready  to  engulf  it,  but 
keeping  the  bow  in  the  eye  of  the  wind  the  Indian 
paddled  it  swiftly  and  steadily  nearer  and  nearer.  At 
last  it  was  not  more  than  twenty  feet  away,  but  as  he 
rose  above  it  on  a  wave  he  saw  to  his  horror  that 
it  was  filling  with  water,  and  was  almost  beyond  the 
Indian's  control;  while  worse  yet,  at  the  rate  and 
course  of  the  yacht,  he  was  going  to  pass  it,  out  of 
reach,  and  leave  it  behind. 

Gathering  all  his  strength  he  made  one  tremendous 
effort.  He  braced  his  feet  upon  the  rail,  leaned  back 
upon  the  tiller  and,  as  far  out  as  his  arm  would  reach, 
left  the  jib  line  slack.  But  his  feet  were  numb  with 
cold.  His  legs  were  cramped  and  half-frozen.  The 
position  was  a  dangerous  one  at  the  best,  and  when 
the  yacht  reeled  and  lunged,  in  answering  the  helm, 
his  foot  slipped,  and  before  he  could  make  one  motion 
to  save  himself,  the  tightening  jib  line  dragged  him 
over  and  he  slid  into  the  water. 

Even  then  he  only  half -realized  that  it  was  he  him- 
self who  was  overboard,  and  that  he  must  do  some- 
thing or  drown.  The  water  was  warmer  than  the 
wind,  and  his  first  thought  was  that  he  was  more  com- 
fortable there.  But  something  began  pulling  fiercely 
upon  his  arm.  He  thought  of  the  jib  line  he  had 


20  WHO    FIRED   THAT    SHOT? 

twisted  there.  It  roused  him,  and  he  clutched  it  in 
both  hands.  In  reality  he  not  only  saved  himself,  but 
saved  the  yacht  by  doing  so. 

As  his  head  came  out  of  water  he  gulped  a  breath 
before  it  was  dragged  im^er  again.  When  he  came 
up  again  he  was  close  beside  the  yacht,  and  some  one 
was  pulling  on  the  rope.  Then  some  one  was  pulling 
on  his  arm.  The  Indian  was  leaning  over  him.  He 
heard  a  voice  say,  "  Young  master,  hold  fast.  Heap 
big  storm,  but  all  come  right,"  and  a  moment  later  he 
was  dragging  himself  into  the  yacht,  while  the  Indian 
quickly  unwound  the  rope,  caught  the  tiller,  and  skill- 
fully brought  the  yacht  back  into  her  course. 

"  Young  master  go  see  father,"  said  the  Indian. 
"  Me  heap  good  sail  canoe.  Heap  time  sail  wid  father." 

For  an  instant  Oscar  stood  clutching  the  mast  and 
staring  at  the  little  figure  so  quietly  and  skillfully 
managing  the  helm.  It  was  not  a  veteran  brave  or 
even  a  young  buck  who  had  dared  to  face  that 
fearful  storm  in  a  frail  canoe  to  lend  him  aid.  It 
was  a  little  Indian  girl.  He  was  too  bewildered,  how- 
ever, to  fully  comprehend  it  all,  and  chiefly  realizing 
that  one  who  understood  the  work  had  relieved  him, 
and  that  he  was  free  at  last  to  care  for  his  father,  he 
knelt  beside  the  prostrate  form  and  at  once  became 
oblivious  to  everything  else,  even  to  the  danger  which 
still  was  so  great. 

He  did  not  realize  whether  much  or  little  time  had 


WHO   FIRED   THAT   SHOT?  21 

passed,  when  he  was  roused  by  a  sudden  thump  that 
started  the  seams,  stove  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  the 
yacht,  and  drove  out  the  mast.  Then  all  was  still. 

The  mast  and  rigging  fell  across  him  so  that  he 
could  not  move,  for  a  moment,  and  while  he  was  free- 
ing himself  he  heard  the  Indian  say,  "  No  mean  do 
dat.  Heap  try  get  shore  quick."  When  he  lifted 
his  head  and  looked  about  him  the  Indian  girl  had 
disappeared,  but  the  yacht  lay  fast  between  two  rocks 
well  up  the  shore. 

Other  voices  sounded,  and  in  a  moment  the  yacht 
was  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  rough-handed,  coarse- 
tongued,  tender-hearted  frontier  settlers,  all  ready  to 
do  their  best  for  the  master  whom  they  all  loved. 

In  the  gathering  dusk  they  made  a  rude  litter  of  the 
seats  of  the  yacht.  They  laid  their  coats  upon  it  to 
make  it  as  comfortable  as  possible,  and,  placing  the 
unconscious  form  of  Mr.  Peterson  there,  they  lifted  it 
upon  their  shoulders  as  tenderly  as  rough  men  could, 
and  started,  in  the  darkness  which  had  suddenly  closed 
in,  through  the  village  street  and  up  the  butte  to  the 
stone  mansion  of  the  master. 

At  every  step  of  the  way  the  little  procession  in- 
creased. Women  came  out  with  lanterns  to  lead  the 
way.  Children,  sobbing  and  trembling,  timidly  fol- 
lowed on  behind.  The  doctor  was  there  and  the 
minister.  Indians  and  half-breeds  were  there.  Every 
one  who  could  be  was  there. 


CHAPTER   III. 

NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 

"  SHUT  the  door,  Wenononee  !  Shut  the  door !  " 
cried  old  Wetamoc,  an  Indian  squaw,  throwing  her 
arm  over  a  bundle  of  dried  sweet  grass  lying  on  a 
chair  beside  her,  while  she  drew  her  blanket  about  a 
pile  of  bright-colored  shavings  from  which  she  was 
weaving  baskets,  as  her  granddaughter  entered  the  log 
cabin  and  with  her  a  savage  gust  of  wind,  rain  and 
sleet.  It  pulled  the  door  away  from  Wenononee  the 
moment  she  lifted  the  latch,  and  made  a  grand  rush 
through  the  cabin  and  into  the  fireplace,  tossing  the 
ashes  in  every  direction. 

The  Indian  girl  caught  it  quickly,  and  bracing  her 
moccasined  feet  on  the  earth  floor  and  her  shoulder 
against  the  heavy  oak  door,  she  pushed  with  all  her 
strength  before  she  could  force  it  back.  Gust  after 
gust  swept  against  it,  and  the  door  shivered  and  creaked 
on  its  iron  hinges  before  it  settled  into  its  place  and  the 
broad  wooden  latch  fell  into  the  slot  to  hold  it  there. 

•*- 22 


NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 


23 


For  a  moment  Weno  did  not  move,  but  stood  with 
her  cheek  resting  on  her  extended  arm,  the  rain  drip- 
ping from  her  long  black  hair  and  loose  dress,  and 
gathering  in  little  pools  upon  the  floor  about  her  feet. 
Solemnly  and  slowly,  in  true  Indian  instinct,  her  bright 


WENONONKE,    SHUT   THE   UOOlt!" 


black  eyes  wandered  from  one  object  to  another  about 
the  room,  as  though  they  were  something  new  to  her, 
and  not  at  all  as  though  she  had  been  born  within  a 
stone's  throw,  and  had  lived  in  that  log  cabin  almost 
all  her  life. 


24  NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 

It  was  no  tepee,  but  a  very  sumptuous  wigwam  for 
an  Indian  in  the  province  of  Manitoba.  It  was  a  sub- 
stantial cabin,  with  the  logs  hewn  smooth  on  the  inside, 
and  the  chinks  well  filled  with  clay.  There  was  real 
glass  in  the  windows,  a  solid  stone  chimney,  a  broad 
fireplace  and  a  little  room  overhead  which  Weno  called 
her  own. 

Wenononee  lived  here  with  her  mother  and  grand- 
mother. Her  father  and  grandfather  were  killed  be- 
fore she  was  born.  The  village  had  grown  up  about 
the  cabin,  and  it  now  stood  in  the  very  center  of  the 
settlement,  between  the  village  street  and  the  lake  ; 
though  only  sixteen  years  before  it  was  a  solitary 
pioneer's  cabin,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  wilderness, 
surrounded  by  wandering  tribes  and  wild  animals. 
Mr.  Peterson  was  the  pioneer,  and  it  was  here  where 
his  son  was  born,  here  where  his  young  wife  died.  It 
was  here  where  Weno's  mother  came  to  nurse  the  little 
pale  face  baby,  and  at  the  shed  end  of  this  same  cabin 
the  little  sign  once  hung :  "  Oscar  Peterson :  Ranchman 
and  Ranger." 

During  the  half-breed  insurrection,  Weno's  father 
and  grandfather  renounced  their  tribe  to  defend  this 
pioneer  cabin.  With  Mr.  Peterson  they  held  it  till 
General  Lord  Wolseley  put  an  end  to  the  insurrection. 
But  they  were  branded  as  traitors  by  their  people,  and 
an  Indian  never  forgets.  Shortly  after  the  war  they 
were  both  killed  while  out  hunting.  No  one  ever 


NEWS    FROM   THE   MANSION.  25 

knew  why  or  by  whom,  yet  no  one  doubted  that  it  was 
their  reward  for  having  defended  the  pale  face  pioneer. 
Mr.  Peterson  gave  the  log  cabin  to  the  two  squaws 
for  their  home,  and  had  never  ceased  to  provide  for 
them  in  every  way.  It  was  only  a  verbal  gift  lest,  if 
the  property  were  legally  theirs,  they  might  foolishly 
dispose  of  it,  to  their  own  sorrow,  as  so  many  Indians 
have  done  before  and  since.  No  one  who  knew  Mr. 
Peterson,  however,  ever  doubted  that  his  word  was  as 
good  as  his  deed,  and  that  the  log  cabin  and  the  little 
farm  extending  to  the  lake  belonged  to  the  Indian 
squaws  just  as  truly  as  though  a  dozen  deeds  were 
recorded  in  their  favor. 

It  was  not  a  long  journey  for  Wenononee's  eyes  to 
wander  about  the  room.  Here  and  there  a  bright-col- 
ored print  was  fastened  to  the  wall.  Bunches  of  dried 
grass  and  narrow  strips  of  dyed  wood  hung  from  the 
rafters.  A  lump  of  smoked  venison  was  swinging  on 
its  string  with  a  bunch  of  dried  golden-rod  on  one  side, 
and  onions  on  the  other.  Indian  shawls  and  blankets, 
beads  and  belts,  leggings  and  moccasins  hung  on  the 
wall  or  lay  in  a  pile  in  the  corner ;  for  Wenononee's 
people  were  no  half-breeds.  They  were  true  Indians, 
of  the  tribe  of  Hiawatha,  and  they  were  very  proud  of 
it.  Not  a  word  of  English  was  ever  heard  in  the  cabin, 
and  in  the  peculiar  characteristic,  so  common  among 
border  Indians,  the  squaws  would  not  even  admit  that 
they  so  much  as  understood  a  word  of  it.  Weno,  how- 


26  NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 

ever,  had  attended  the  English  school  in  the  village  to 
please  "  The  Master,"  as,  high  and  low,  far  and  near, 
they  all  called  Mr.  Peterson ;  but  she  was  still  an 
Indian.  Then  there  were  skins  upon  the  earth  floor 
and  skins  upon  the  wall.  There  were  two  pairs  of  ant- 
lers, of  which  Weno  was  quietly  very  proud  —  as  the 
result  of  her  own  hunting  —  bows  and  arrows,  an  old 
gun  and  no  end  of  litter ;  otherwise  it  would  not  have 
been  an  Indian's  wigwam. 

Against  the  wall  at  one  end  of  the  room  there  were 
two  box  beds,  one  above  the  other.  In  one  of  them 
Weno's  mother  was  lying,  slowly  dying  of  that  com- 
bination of  lung  troubles  which  is  destined,  in  time, 
to  settle  the  Indian  question  in  America  without  the 
aid  of  cruel  and  unjust  legislation. 

Beyond  the  beds  and  near  the  fire,  Wetamoc,  the 
old  grandmother,  sat  upon  a  skin  on  the  floor,  using  a 
chair  to  hold  her  grasses.  Then  came  the  fireplace, 
with  its  embers  and  ashes  lying  about  in  confusion, 
where  the  wind  had  left  them. 

When  her  eyes  reached  this  point  Wenononee  turned 
slowly  from  the  door,  crossed  the  room,  and  began  re- 
placing the  fallen  sticks  and  poking  back  the  glowing 
coals,  while  she  sang  a  quaint  Indian  song.  Aided  by 
the  brighter  light  and  inspired  by  the  song,  the  old 
squaw's  fingers  flew  among  the  colored  shavings  and 
sweet  grasses  till  one  could  see  the  basket  growing 
under  her  touch. 


NEWS    FROM   THE    MANSION.  27 

Weno  paused  in  the  song  for  a  moment  and,  with  a 
shudder,  muttered,  "  It  is  awful  on  the  lake."  The 
old  squaw  gave  a  peculiar  grunt,  but  did  not  look  np 
from  her  basket. 

"  The  master  was  out  in  it,  and  the  young  master, 
in  the  bird  canoe,"  Wenononee  said  a  little  later,  as 
she  still  crouched  before  the  fire,  looking  steadily  into 
the  glowing  coals. 

Again  the  old  squaw  responded  with  a  grunt.  It 
was  different  from  the  other,  however,  and  one  who 
understands  the  Indian  understands  his  grunts  as  well 
as  spoken  words. 

"They  might  have  been  drowned,"  Wenononee 
added  ;  and  the  old  squaw  paused  in  her  work  to  lift 
her  hand  and  make  a  circle  in  the  air,  saying,  as  plain 
as  words,  that  all  things  are  in  the  hands  of  the  Great 
Spirit. 

Wenononee  shook  her  head  slowly,  as  though  she 
were  not  quite  sure  of  that  philosophy,  and,  after  a 
pause,  continued :  "  The  master  has  been  badly  hurt, 
and  the  young  master  fell  into  the  water  and  would 
have  drowned,  they  say,  if  it  had  not  been  for  an  In- 
dian." But  the  stoical  old  squaw  only  responded  with 
another  grunt  and  another  circle  in  the  air. 

Weno  sat  for  some  time  in  silence,  trying  to  solve, 
in  Indian  fashion,  the  great  orthodox  problem  of  fore- 
ordination  and  free  agency,  while  she  wrung  the  water 
out  of  her  hair,  letting  it  fall  into  the  ashes. 


28  NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 

u  Like  these  drops  of  water  are  we  all,"  she  whis- 
pered. "  We  were  not,  we  are,  we  shall  not  be.  We 
come,  we  hurry,  we  go.  Who  knows  and  can  say 
more  ?  " 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  and  threw  herself  upon 
the  skin  beside  her  grandmother,  with  her  face  rest- 
ing in  her  hands,  her  elbows  on  the  skin.  She  lay 
there  in  silence  for  a  while,  watching  the  old  squaw's 
fingers  —  long,  and  gaunt,  and  ghostly,  in  the  flicker- 
ing firelight  —  deftly  and  swiftly  twisting  the  shavings 
and  braiding  the  grasses. 

"  Was  it  so  very  much  that  my  father  and  grand- 
father did  for  the  master  that  he  has  always  been  so 
good  to  us  ?  "  she  asked,  at  last. 

The  old  squaw's  hands  dropped  upon  her  knee, 
and  for  a  moment  she  sat  staring  over  Weno's  head 
into  the  fire  beyond.  The  sudden  question  had  re- 
called those  terrible  days  before  the  child  was  born, 
and  in  the  howling  of  the  storm  as  it  lashed  the  rain 
and  sleet  against  the  windows,  and  in  the  deep  thunder 
of  the  waves  she  heard  again  the  war-whoop  of  her 
tribe,  the  clatter  of  their  horses'  hoofs,  the  splash  of 
their  thousand  paddles,  the  twang  of  their  bowstrings 
and  the  whirr  of  their  arrows.  Her  old  eyes  shone 
and  flashed  in  the  firelight.  Her  face  lost  its  wrinkles 
and  a  deep  frown  gathered  upon  her  forehead. 

With  instinctive  admiration  Wenononee  lay  watch- 
ing the  old  squaw.  She  knew  the  story  of  Wetamoc's 


NEWS    FROM   THE    MANSION.  29 

marriage,  well  ;  how  the  brave  who  led  her  to  his  wig- 
wam was  then  one  of  the  great  chiefs  of  the  tribe,  and 
how  they  all  said  that  of  all  the  women  he  could 
not  have  chosen  a  better  wife.  And  Wenononee  was 
enough  of  a  true  Indian  still  to  recognize  and  appre- 
ciate the  qualities  which  had  made  Wetamoc  worthy. 
She  loved  the  wild,  roving  life  of  her  people;  she 
could  not  help  it ;  and  the  warm  weather  rarely  found 
Weno  sleeping  under  the  roof  of  the  log  cabin.  She 
could  shoot  an  arrow  straighter  than  any  Indian  boy 
of  her  age  who  came  to  the  village.  She  could  ride 
the  wildest  pony  in  Manitoba,  or  paddle  a  canoe  as 
skillfully  as  any  brave.  She  knew  where  game  was 
found  and  how  to  trap  it ;  and  with  the  old  rifle  which 
the  master  had  given  to  her  father  she  could  shoot  in 
a  way  that  put  to  shame  many  of  the  settlers  who. 
were  much  better  equipped.  She  possessed  all  of  the^ 
Indian  instincts  of  loyalty,  too,  and  when  the  vision^ 
had  passed  away,  and  with  a  grunt  Wetamoc  returned 
to  her  work,  though  Weno  did  not  think  it  wise  to 
repeat  the  same  question,  she  asked  another  in  the 
same  line. 

"  If  we  were  ever  in  trouble  the  master  has  given 
us  aid  ?  "  she  said. 

Wetamoc  assented  with  a  grunt. 

"  If  the  master  or  the  young  master  were  to  be  in 
trouble  again  wouldn't  it  be  our  duty  to  " 

Weno    paused   abruptly,  lifted  her   head,  listened 


30  NEWS    FROM    THE    MANSION. 

intently  for  an  instant,  then  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
hurried  out  of  the  cabin,  pulling  the  door  after  her  be- 
fore the  tempest  had  time  to  discover  that  it  was  open. 

The  moment  the  door  was  closed  her  hands  fell 
idly  by  her  side.  She  stood  still  in  the  darkness, 
silently  watching  the  glimmer  of  the  lanterns  which 
some  of  the  settlers  were  carrying  in  advance  of  the 
men  who  bore  the  litter,  as  the  solemn  procession 
moved  up  the  village  street  toward  the  stone  mansion 
on  the  hill. 

As  it  came  nearer  Wenononee  shrank  back  into  the 
open  shed  at  the  entrance  to  which  Oscar's  sign  once 
hung. 

It  was  a  curious  throng  that  slowly  and  solemnly 
tramped  past  the  log  cabin,  weird  and  strange  in  the 
flickering  light  of  the  lanterns  that  left  many  black 
shadows  and  slowly  moving  mysteries  unsolved.  There 
were  German  peasants  in  their  rough,  dark  clothes 
and  small  flap  caps,  Frenchmen  and  half-breeds  in 
jaunty  buckskin  jackets  and  bright-colored  scarfs,  In- 
dians in  their  blankets,  shod  with  moccasins,  gliding 
noiselessly  on,  like  ghosts,  and  Scotch  farmers  and 
rough  English  miners  making  as  much  noise  with  their 
feet  as  a  horse.  In  the  center  the  litter  was  borne 
upon  men's  shoulders,  and  notwithstanding  the  storm 
and  night,  the  rough  men  who  bore  it  walked  with 
uncovered  heads.  Behind  the  litter  walked  the  doctor 
and  the  minister,  and  between  them  —  they  were  sup- 


NEWS    FROM   THE    MANSION.-  31 

porting  him,  each  holding  an  arm  —  was  Oscar  Peter- 
son. When  they  had  passed,  Wenononee  came  from 
her  hiding-place  and  followed  with  those  who  were 
walking  in  the  rear. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  Weno  returned  to  the 
cabin.  The  storm  had  blown  itself  away  and  given 
up  its  struggle  to  bring  the  winter  back  again.  The 
bright  sun  was  streaming  through  the  east  window  as 
though  there  never  had  been  and  never  could  be  any- 
thing but  beautiful  warm  spring  days.  The  invalid 
was  propped  up  upon  the  box  bed  eating  her  break- 
fast, and  old  Wetamoc  was  still  cooking  over  the  last 
embers.  No  one  asked  a  question  as  Wenononee 
entered,  for  she  was  an  Indian  and  they  were  Indi- 
ans. They  simply  grunted  the  usual  greeting,  to  which 
she  responded,  and  Wetamoc  put  some  food  upon 
the  corner  of  the  hearth.  But  Weno  turned  away 
from  it  and  silently  threw  herself  upon  a  skin  near 
the  bed. 

For  an  hour  she  lay  there,  and  not  a  word  was 
spoken  in  the  cabin.  The  mother  finished  her  break- 
fast and  took  from  a  pouch  hanging  beside  her  a  piece 
of  skin  from  which  she  was  working  a  pair  of  leggings. 
The  grandmother  smoked  her  red  clay  pipe  and 
braided  the  grasses. 

From  the  council  fires  of  the  greatest  chiefs  and  the 
powwows  of  the  tribes  to  the  lodge-fire  of  the  medi- 
cine man,  the  pot-fires  of  the  tepee  and  the  hearth  of 


32  NEWS    FROM    THE   MANSION. 

the  most  civilized  wigwam  where  au  Indian  ever  was 
himself,  it  has  always  been  in  much  this  same  fashion 
that  the  most  startling  and  important  revelations  have 
been  made.  It  was  simple  nature.  Wenononee  could 
not  help  it;  and  when  at  last  she  spoke,  it  was  to 
repeat  only  four  words  : 
"  The  master  is  dead ! 


CHAPTER   IV. 

OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY. 

OSCAR  had  not  a  near  relative  in  the  world.  Both 
in  England  and  America  there  were  friends  almost 
without  number  who  were  ready  to  extend  to  him 
their  sympathy,  but  he  had  seen  enough  of  the  world 
to  know  that  if  he  had  been  left  destitute  instead  of 
"  the  young  master "  of  so  much  property,  he  would 
not  have  received  half  so  much  sympathy.  He  did 
not  feel  competent  to  judge  among  them  for  some  one 
to  trust  in  his  present  emergency. 

His  father  had  rallied  a  moment  before  he  died,  but 
Oscar  did  not  see  him.  His  own  life  was  hanging  by 
a  thread  that  night,  and  his  mind  was  wandering. 
He  only  knew  that  they  asked  who  fired  the  shot,  and 
that  his  father  replied,  as  he  did  on  the  yacht :  "  It 
must  have  been  a  mistake.  The  ball  must  have 
glanced."  With  that  the  people  were  satisfied,  saying 
that  it  was  probably  some  Indian  hunter. 

They  asked  Oscar  the  same  question,  but  until  he 
33 


34 


OSCAR  S    FIRST    DUTY. 


could  make  up  his  mind  why  it  was  that  his  father 
insisted  upon  that  reply  he  too  said,  simply,  "  I  do  not 
know."  Then  he  would  grind  his  teeth  and  say  to 
himself :  " But  I  will  know;  for  it  was  not  a  mistake, 


— ~   ,4   <• 

1   ifl        \ 

_flfe==.  lf'  •pftirrfo,,,       1 

"       / 

OSCAR'S  TWO  FRIENDS. 

and  it  was  not  an  Indian.      That  is  my  first  duty,  and 
I  will  do  it." 

Oscar  had  two  dear  friends.  They  came  to  him 
from  Manitoba  to  Oxford,  as  a  Christmas  gift  from 
his  father,  a  year  before,  and  now  they  had  come  back 
with  him  to  Manitoba.  One  was  a  horse  —  the  finest 
colt  that  had  been  raised  upon  a  stock  farm.  The 


OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY.  35 

other  was  a  clog  which  Oscar,  at  least,  considered  a 
match  for  any  setter  in  the  country.  He  was  reading 
Don  Quixote  when  they  arrived,  and  he  named  the 
horse  Sancho,  and  the  dog  Panza,  after  the  famous 
esquire  of  that  old  Spanish  satire.  The  boys  laughed 
at  him  for  his  choice,  but  he  said  that  whenever  he 
spoke  their  names  he  thought  of  the  jolly  old  squire, 
and  it  made  him  want  to  laugh,  so  he  was  satisfied. 

Now  they  were  dearer  to  him  than  ever,  and  the 
three  were  together  almost  all  the  time.  They  thought 
as  much  of  each  other  and  of  Oscar  as  he  thought  of 
them.  Panza  would  go  to  the  stable  for  Sancho  and 
take  him  back,  and  Sancho  was  thoroughly  satisfied 
to  trot  away  with  Panza  upon  his  back,  holding  the 
reins  in  her  jaws.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  how 
carefully  he  would  step,  trying  to  keep  the  saddle 
steady,  always  holding  his  head  on  one  side  to  watch 
and  see  that  she  did  not  fall.  When  they  reached 
their  destination  and  Panza  jumped,  Sancho  would 
squeal  and  apparently  do  his  best  to  nab  her ;  but 
either  he  never  really  tried  or  Panza  was  always  too 
quick  for  him,  for  he  never  succeeded.  If  any  one 
else  attempted  to  mount,  however,  Sancho  began  in 
right  good  earnest,  and  he  must  be  an  excellent  horse- 
man who  could  gain  the  saddle  at  all,  much  less  keep  it. 

With  these  two  Oscar  started  to  perform  his  first 
duty.  As  he  rode  down  the  village  street  he  was  sur- 
prised at  the  cordial  greetings  he  received  from  every 


36  OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY. 

one.  They  all  knew  him,  and  their  eagerness  to  be 
friendly  made  him  stronger  and  braver,  even  though  he 
did  not  know  them.  When  they  were  passing  the  log 
cabin  he  paused  for  a  moment,  thinking  of  the  time 
when  he  had  lived  there.  His  eyes  turned  toward  the 
shed  almost  as  though  he  expected  to  find  the  little 
sign  still  hanging  there.  In  a  moment  the  oak  door 
was  opened  and  the  old  squaw  appeared,  bobbing  and 
grunting  a  welcome. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Wetamoc  ?  "  Oscar  exclaimed,  rid- 
ing up  and  offering  her  his  hand.  "  I  should  know 
you  anywhere.  I  used  to  be  afraid  of  you,  but  I'm 
not  afraid  now." 

"  No,  no !  "  she  replied,  taking  his  hands  in  both  of 
hers.  "  No  fear  Wetamoc.  Heap  friend."  Then  she 
looked  about  her  with  a  quick,  half-frightened  glance, 
to  be  sure  that  no  one  had  heard  her  speaking  English. 

"  Wetamoc's  brave  and  her  son  were  very  kind  to 
my  father.  I  shall  never  forget  it,"  Oscar  said;  and 
while  the  old  squaw  pressed  his  hand  to  her  wrinkled 
cheek  he  asked,  "Where  is  Mama,  the  young  squaw  ? 
I  remember  very  well  when  she  was  my  nurse." 

"Mama  seek.  Soon  die,"  replied  Wetamoc  sadly  ; 
and  then  in  the  universal  sign  language  of  the  Indians 
she  asked  him  to  come  in  and  see  her  daughter. 
Quickly  dismounting,  Oscar  threw  the  reins  to  Panza 
and  hurried  across  the  cabin  to  the  box  bed  where  the 
invalid  sat. 


OSCAR  S    FIRST    DUTY. 


37 


She  took  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  and  the  tears  rolled 
down  her  sunken  cheeks  as  she  gently  touched  his 
brown  curls  and  whispered,  "  Pretty  !  pretty !  You 
pappoose  me."  Then  she  took  a  pair  of  leggings  and 
moccasins  from  the  pouch  beside  her  and  gave  them 
to  him.  She  had  evidently  worked  them  as  a  gift  to 


THE  SQUAW'S   CABIN. 

the  young  master  when  he  should  come  back,  and  she 
was  celebrated  for  her  beautiful  handiwork. 

Oscar  realized  at  a  glance  that  these  were  by  far  the 
finest  he  had  ever  seen.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  some- 
thing choked  him.  He  could  only  look  his  thanks  and 


38  OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY. 

press  his  old  nurse's  hand.  After  waiting  a  moment 
he  asked,  "  Where  is  the  little  one  —  the  pappoose  ? 
I  can  just  remember  her." 

The  mother  was  too  weak  to  call,  but  Wetamoc 
gave  a  shrill  Indian  cry  and  shouted,  "  Weno ! 
Wenononee  !  " 

Had  Oscar  looked  directly  above  his  head,  through 
the  hole  leading  to  the  little  room  under  the  roof,  he 
would  have  seen  one  stray  lock  of  glossy  black  hair 
and  two  bright  black  eyes  appearing  just  over  the 
edge.  But  he  did  not  look,  and  as  there  was  no  re- 
sponse he  took  from  behind  his  saddle  (where  he  had 
bound  it  in  the  common  custom  of  the  country)  a 
blanket  robe  which  he  had  brought  from  England, 
gave  it  to  his  old  nurse,  and  rode  away  to  Wawanka's 
wigwam. 

So  far  as  an  Indian  could  be,  Wawanka  was  the 
village  shoemaker.  He  had  outlived  his  usefulness  in 
the  forest,  and  settled  down  near  the  village ;  for  aside 
from  his  skill  in  making  leggings  and  moccasins  for 
his  own  people  he  made  a  strong,  high-topped  boot 
of  tough,  soft  leather,  which  was  popular  among  the 
farmers,  and  had  invented  a  curious  kind  of  iron  claw, 
which  he  called  slug-holds,  and  fastened  on  the  heels 
of  modern  boots  to  prevent  them  from  slipping  when 
climbing  over  fallen  logs  or  icy  rocks,  in  the  winter. 
They  were  in  great  demand  among  the  hunters  and 
lumbermen.  When  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  Wa- 


OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY.  39 

wanka  would  repair  a  strictly  pale  face  boot  or  shoe, 
but  he  did  not  like  to,  and  avoided  it  if  possible. 

Oscar  sat  down  on  one  end  of  his  bench  and  watched 
him  for  a  time  in  silence.  This  was  quite  in  accord 
with  Indian  etiquette.  The  more  important  the  errand 
which  calls  one  to  another's  wigwam  the  less  inclined 
he  is  to  make  any  sudden  declaration,  and  Oscar's  first 
five  years  with  his  Indian  nurse  had  given  him  many 
a  trait  which  he  himself  did  not  appreciate,  but  which 
was  fully  in  accord  with  the  established  rites  of  the 
red  men.  The  boys  at  Oxford  always  called  him  odd. 
It  had  troubled  him,  and  he  had  tried  to  discover  and 
overcome  the  oddities,  but  never  once  came  near  enough 
the  truth  to  realize  that  they  were  only  the  intuitive 
instincts  and  traits  of  his  Indian  nurse  transplanted 
into  his  own  boyhood.  So  Wawanka  grunted  a  wel- 
come, brushed  the  dust  from  the  end  of  the  low  bench 
where  he  kept  his  leather  and  tools,  and  silently  went 
on  with  his  work,  and  when  Oscar  sat  down  in  silence 
and  watched  him  it  did  not  seem  odd  to  either  of  them. 

Wawanka  was  taking  some  well-worn  slug-holds 
from  a  pair  of  boots.  The  summer  had  come  in  good 
earnest,  and  there  was  no  more  need  of  them. 

"Those  are  great,"  Oscar  said,  at  last. 

The  Indian  grunted.  "  Pale  face  boots  no  slug,  no 
good,"  he  said,  a  little  scornfully. 

"  Which  are  the  best,  Wawanka,  boots  made  here  or 
in  the  States  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 


40  OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY. 

/ 
"Both    no    good,"   replied    the    Indian,   decidedly. 

"  State  boot  heel  no  good.  Heap  no  good."  Wa- 
wanka  was  fumbling  about  under  his  bench,  and  now 
pulled  out  a  pair  of  boots  which  he  held  bottom  up, 
and  Oscar's  heart  stood  still  as  he  looked  at  a  pair 
of  "  State  "  boots  with  one  missing  heel.  "  Black-dog 
bring  boot  Wawanka' s  wigwam.  Want  slug.  Pale 
face  go  hunting.  Black-dog  guide.  Two  days  pale 
face  come.  Swear  Wawanka  heap  big  cheat.  Take 
pair  new  Indian  boot.  No  pay.  Ugh !  "  and  the 
Indian  settled  back  to  his  work. 

"  Do  you  know  the  name  of  the  pale  face  ?  "  Oscar 
asked. 

Wawanka  grunted  savagely,  and  finally  replied : 
"  No  see  just  once.  Heap  bad.  Good  no  stop.  Heap 
big.  Bottom  part  here  gone."  He  took  the  end  of 
his  little  finger  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger,  and 
then  turned  to  his  work  again. 

This  was  all  that  Oscar  could  get  out  of  him,  so  he 
purchased  the  boots,  much  to  the  delight  of  the  Indian, 
and  rode  away  to  the  mines  to  find  Black-dog.  But 
Black-dog  was  not  to  be  found. 

"  He's  a  slip'ry  skunk,  ef  ever  thar  war  one,"  said 
an  old  miner  who  had  charge  of  the  division  where 
Black-dog  was  supposed  to  work.  "  Never  wus  a  bad 
row  in  these  parts  but  Black-dog  was  skulkin'  roun' 
sumwhar  on  the  outskirts,  jest  too  fur  away  to  ketch. 
He's  lugged  more  dirt^mean  whiskey  inter  these  dig- 


OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY.  41 

gin's  nor  all  the  rest  combined.  The  day  afore  yer 
father  got — got  —  hurt,"  said  the  miner,  trying  in 
his  rough  way  to  speak  as  gently  as  possible  of  the 
sad  event,  "  he  wus  here  to  the  mines  an'  gin  Black- 
dog  a  good  lay  out.  He  told  him  he  wus  goin'  up  the 
lake  the  next  day  fur  to  peck  out  a  place  fur  a  saw- 
mill, an'  thet  he  might  go  up  thar  an'  go  ter  lumberin' 
or  leave  the  place  altergether,  es  he  wudn't  hev  him 
round  no  longer.  I  heer'd  thet  much  myself ;  an'  thet 
night  he  wus  gone,  takin'  his  hoss,  but  leavin'  his  cart 
an'  his  squaw.  Pie  allers  takes  them  'long  with  him 
when  he's  arter  whiskey,  so  I  reckoned  he'd  gone  ter 
the  woods ;  but  next  night  she  lit  out.  She'd  be 
wuss'n  him  ef  thet  war  convenient.  Waal,  she  tuk 
the  cart  an'  Ben  Billin's's  hoss.  Got  a  big  white  face 
an'  a  chopped-off  mane,  an'  one  white  foot.  Ben  don't 
say  's  she  stole  et,  but  she  borred  et  'out  leave  or 
license,  an'  he'd  be  proper  glad  to  git  et  back  ag'in." 

Oscar  only  waited  for  him  to  pause  when  he  asked 
eagerly,  "  Had  Black-dog's  horse  four  white  feet,  a 
piece  cut  from  his  ear,  and  " 

"  An'  a  hump  on  his  hip  ?  Thet's  him,"  the  miner 
interrupted.  •  • 

"  Do  you  know  what  firearms  he  carried  ?  "  Oscar 
asked. 

"  Reckon  he  hed  an  old  navy  —  most  on  'em  do," 
replied  the  miner ;  "  an'  fur  the  rest  he  owned  an  ole 
double-barreled  shot-gun." 


42  OSCAR'S  FIKST  DUTY. 

"  And  an  English  rifle  ?  " 

"  Lord,  no !  He  never  went  inter  shootin'  irons 
thet  luxurious  unless'n  he  stole  'em  ;  an'  he  hain't  bin 
nowhar  to  steal  one  fur  the  last  month  ;  an'  he  wudn't 
'a'  been  two  hours  in  swappin'  et  off  ef  he  hed."  • 

Here  the  miner  stopped  short  for  a  moment,  looked 
keenly  at  Oscar  and  exclaimed  :  "I  say,  young  master, 
ye  been't  a-thinkin'  et  mought  'a'  bin  him  es  —  es  — 
fired,  up  in  the  woods  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know  what  to  think,"  Oscar  replied. 
"  His  horse  was  left  by  a  deserted  tepee,  and  I  saw  it 
killed  by  wolves  not  over  half  a  mile  away." 

The  miner  stood  for  a  moment  whistling  and  looking 
away  over  the  lake,  then  he  sat  down  on  a  rock  and 
replied  :  "  Look  a-here,  young  master,  you  jest  hold 
yer  hosses  or  they'll  run  yer  inter  a  detch  on  thet  trail. 
Black-dog  wus  a  pesky  good  trapper.  He  know'd  them 
woods  ef  ever  any  one  ded,  an'  he  never  lef  thet  hoss 
o'  his'n  war  he'd  be  eet  up  by  wolves.  He  was  a  tarnal 
coward,  an'  ef  he'd  know'd  the  master  wus  thar,  es  he 
ded,  he'd  never  'a'  called  attention  to  his  wharabouts 
by  shootin',  countin'  'twus  a  mistake  ;  whiles  ownin'  to 
his  hands  a-shakin',  frum  suthin'  like  p'ralisis,  he's 
sech  an  everlastin'  poor  shot  thet  he'd  never  'a'  dar'd 
ter  resk  tryin',  hed  he  'a'  bin  in  arnest.  He  mought 
'a'  let  his  hoss  out,  or  he  mought  'a'  gone  es  guide  fur 
summon  es  ded,  knowin'  or  not  knowin',  es  the  case 
may  be  ;  but  Black-dog  never  ded  thet  thing  himself. 


OSCAR'S  FIRST  DUTY.  43 

Ye  kin  sot  yer  stakes  on  thet  claim,  young  master,  an' 
be  sure  o'  strikin'  the  right  vein." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  I  can  find  him  ?  "  Oscar 
asked. 

"Likeliest  way  is  ter  wait  fur  him,"  said  the  miner. 
"  A  bad  penny's  putty  sartin'  to  turn  up  ag'in.  The 
Injuns  come  outer  the  woods  'long  in  March,  ye  know, 
an'  'bout  this  time  they've  got  their  tradin'  done,  an' 
I  hear  thar's  a  big  bunch  campin'  down  nigh  Neepawa, 
whar  they'll  likely  be  havin'  their  spring  games  'bout 
now.  'Twould  be  jest  one  o'  his  dirty  tricks  to  hustle 
a  lot  o'  mean  whiskey  in  amongst  'em,  ef  he  cud  steal 
or  smuggle  et." 

"  How  does  he  look  ?  "  Oscar  inquired,  eagerly. 

"  Yer  must  wanter  see  Black-dog  more'n  most  folks 
ef  yer'd  foller  him  to  Neepawa,"  observed  the  miner. 
"  But  ye  cudn't  miss  him  ef  ye  once  sot  eye  on  him. 
He's  the  doggonedest  critter  thet  ever  ye  see.  An' 
his  squaw's  another  jest  like  him.  Yer'd  know  him 
by  the  hoss  an'  by  his  big  fur  cap.  He  wars  et  win- 
ter'n  summer.  They  say  et's  'cause  he's  pesky  'feared 
o'  gittin'  his  skull  cracked  in  some  row." 

This  was  all  the  information  which  Oscar  could 
obtain,  and  with  it  he  rode  home  to  prepare  for  a  trip 
to  the  Indian  encampment  on  the  prairie  stretching 
westward  from  Neepawa. 


CHAPTER  V. 

BAGATAWA. 

FOR  a  guide  and  companion  Oscar  found  a  young 
fellow  who  had  been  in  his  father's  employ  for  several 
years,  watching  cattle  on  the  prairie.  Before  daylight 
they  were  on  the  way  and  with  no  roads  or  fences  to 
help  or  perplex  them,  without  even  a  trail  in  the 
direction  they  were  going.  They  struck  out  at  once 
over  the  open  country ;  through  the  broad  wheat-fields 
of  the  estate  and  then  across  the  pasture-lands  beyond. 
To  the  southwest  lay  the  great  prairie,  stretching  away 
to  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  To  the  north- 
west were  the  wild  and  ragged  pine-lands,  with  some  of 
the  grandest  scenery  in  the  world.  A  thousand  lakes 
were  buried  there  where  the  wild  duck  and  the  plover 
made  their  nests.  For  more  than  a  hundred  years 
hunters  and  trappers  had  been  sending  its  treasures 
of  fur  by  great  shiploads  all  over  the  world,  and  yet 
the  supply  seemed  inexhaustible.  Some  day  the  lum- 
ber would  be  called  for,  and  after  that  even,  those 

44 


BAGATAWA.  45 

wild  lands  would  still  be  some  of  the  richest  to  be 
found,  for  the  vast  treasures  of  minerals  which  Nature 
hid  in  those  fastnesses. 

It  would  require  nearly  two  days  to  reach  the  In- 
dian camp,  and  they  carried  food  and  blankets,  a  cup, 
coffee  pot  and  frying-pan  strapped  behind  their  sad- 
dles. They  did  not  need  them  the  first  night,  how- 
ever, as  the  cowboy  arranged  to  stop  at  a  ranch  that 
was  a  little  more  than  half-way  to  Neepawa.  Here 
they  learned  that  the  encampment,  this  year,  was 
nearer  to  them  than  they  supposed,  and  nearer  to 
the  hills. 

As  they  were  crossing  the  plain,  early  the  next 
morning,  they  passed  a  little  band  of  Blackfeet  braves 
engaged  in  conversation  with  one  of  the  mounted 
police  of  the  prairie.  The  cowboy  grunted  a  good- 
morning  to  the  Indians  and  waved  his  hand  to  the 
soldier  as  they  passed,  but  seemed  to  pay  them  no 
further  attention.  Oscar  was  much  more  interested, 
for,  though  they  were  conversing  very  eagerly,  no  one 
spoke  a  single  word.  They  were  using  the  universal 
sign  language  of  the  Indians.  Oscar  was  saying  to 
himself  that  it  might  do  very  well  for  an  emergency, 
to  ask  for  food  or  water,  but  he  didn't  believe  one 
could  impart  much  information,  when  the  cowboy  re- 
marked, "  Black-dog,  the  half-breed  you're  looking 
for,  comes  from  the  Peterson  mines,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

Oscar  assented,  and  the  cowboy  continued :  "  He's 


46  BAGATAWA. 

got  a  squaw  with  him  and  a  box  prairie  cart,  and  a 
pony  with  a  white  face  and  one  white  foot,  and  a 
bobbed  mane  ? "  Oscar  nodded  in  astonishment. 
"  He's  got  a  load  o'  smuggled  whiskey  ?  " 

"  I  presume  so,"  Oscar  replied ;  "  but  where  did 
you  find  out  about  him  ?  " 

"  That  fellow  was  asking  the  Blackfeet  if  they'd  seen 
such  a  turnout  on  the  way  to  the  camp.  Smuggling 
cornjuice  is  bad  business  in  these  parts  just  now,  and 
I'd  ruther  be  a  treed  coon  than  a  smuggler  with  them 
fellers  after  me.  He  was  a  big  fool  to  tell  those 
Blackfeet,  though.  If  Black-dog  is  at  the  camp 
they'll  tell  him  the  first  thing." 

They  reached  the  camp  early  in  the  afternoon.  A 
thousand  Indians  had  already  gathered,  and  others 
were  occasionally  coming  in.  They  were  all  in  their 
happiest  mood,  having  traded  their  winter's  catch  of 
fur  for  whatever  seemed  to  them  to  be  the  best  of  good 
things,  and  they  were  bent  upon  making  the  most  of 
them  while  the  good  things  were  new. 

"  Only  keep  your  eyes  open  so  as  not  to  give  them 
a  chance  to  steal  anything  from  you,  and  you  are  all 
right  anywhere,"  said  the  cowboy,  as  they  separated 
to  search  for  Black-dog.  Little  clusters  of  tents 
covered  the  plain  for  a  mile  or  more  in  each  direction. 
Tepees,  lodges  of  all  sorts  —  anything  that  would 
make  a  wigwam  —  appeared,  and  every  tribe  that 
trapped  or  hunted  in  the  North  was  represented. 


BAGATAWA.  49 

Most  of  the  families  possessed  one  or  two  of  the 
famous  prairie  carts,  looking  so  much  like  the  carts  of 
the  old  Normandy  peasants  as  to  prove  that  the  first 
French  settlers  had  a  hand  in  their  construction.  A 
plain,  oblong  box,  with  the  bottom  side-boards  run- 
ning straight  out  in  two  long  shafts,  was  placed  upon 
a  heavy  crossbar  for  an  axle,  connecting  two  great 
wooden  wheels.  There  were  no  springs  and  no  seats. 
The  felloes  were  very  broad,  so  that  they  should  not 
cut  through  the  turf,  and  the  spokes  very  long  to  go 
safely  through  mud-holes.  There  was  not  a  nail  or 
bolt  or  anything  but  wood  about  any  one  of  them,  so 
that  if  a  prairie  cart  broke  down  it  was  easy  to  re- 
pair. Sometimes  poles  were  run  up,  making  them 
look  like  hayricks.  Sometimes  long,  slender  poles 
were  bent  and  fastened  to  the  sides,  making  a  frame 
upon  which  an  awning  could  be  drawn. 

It  was  easy  to  tell  when  a  cart  was  coming,  for  an 
Indian  was  never  known  to  grease  the  wheels.  The 
contents  were  always  a  jumble  of  dirty  bedding  and 
blankets,  guns,  axes  and  tent  poles,  canvas  covers, 
skins  and  cooking  utensils.  If  there  was  room  left 
and  the  load  was  not  too  heavy,  there  was  usually  a 
basket  of  puppies  to  be  seen.  If  there  was  still  more 
room  some  of  the  babies  were  stowed  away  there. 
Occasionally  a  squaw  would  ride,  and  least  frequently 
the  brave  himself  would  appear  balanced  on  the  cart. 

It  seemed  to  be  a  thoroughly  manly  occupation  for 


50  BAGATAWA. 

the  brave  to  stalk  along  before  the  horse,  wrapped  in 
his  long  blanket  and  bright-red  leggings  covered  with 
beads,  which  he  had  just  purchased  with  skins  ;  but  he 
would  never  carry  any  burden.  If  there  was  too  much 
for  the  cart  or  the  pony  the  squaw  must  carry  it,  often 
with  a  pappoose  beside,  strapped  over  her  shoulders. 

Very  often  the  aboriginal  Indian  vehicle  was  still 
in  use.  It  was  two  long  poles,  fastened  at  one  end 
and  hung  upon  the  saddle.  Just  behind  the  pony  the 
two  were  again  fastened,  by  a  crossbar,  about  two  feet 
apart,  and  the  other  ends  dragged  upon  the  ground 
far  behind.  The  pony  carried  all  he  could  upon  his 
back,  and  as  much  more  upon  the  crossbar.  Even  the 
dogs  were  sometimes  harnessed  in  this  way  on  a  small 
scale ;  and  Oscar  laughed  heartily  as  one  big  dog 
walked  solemnly  behind  a  cart,  carrying  a  basket  full 
of  puppies  tied  to  the  crossbar  behind  her,  and  again 
when  a  knock-kneed,  jaded  little  pony  ambled  along 
with  two  Indian  babies  all  alone,  tied  to  his  back. 

From  the  frilled  poles  of  the  canvas  tepees,  and 
bark  wigwams  and  leather  lodges  that  were  already 
set  up,  little  clouds  of  blue-white  smoke  curled  slowly 
upward,  indicating  that  housekeeping  had  begun.  In 
other  places  the  squaws  were  busy  unloading  and  set- 
ting up  the  tents.  This  was  evidently  not  a  manly 
occupation,  for  the  moment  the  little  caravan  reached 
its  tenting  ground  the  braves  disappeared,  and  did  not 
show  themselves  again  till  the  smoke  was  rising. 


BAGATAWA.  51 

With  his  eyes  wide  open  Oscar  rode  about  the 
camp,  attracting  little  attention,  for,  from  miles  about, 
settlers  came  to  these  encampments  to  watch  the 
games ;  but  search  as  he  would  he  saw  nothing,  heard 
nothing  of  Black-dog.  Here  and  there  he  paused  to 
watch  a  game  that  was  going  on,  in  which  the  contest- 
ants usually  ended  by  coming  to  blows,  but  no  one 
seemed  particularly  interested  except  those  who  were 
fighting,  and  they  were  always  allowed  to  finish 
unmolested. 

At  one  side  of  the  camp  the  Indians  were  racing 
their  ponies,  and  his  love  for  horses  drew  Oscar  in- 
stinctively to  the  spot.  Sancho  pricked  up  his  ears 
and  began  to  tremble  as  they  approached,  as  though 
he  would  very  much  like  to  take  a  turn  himself. 

"  You  could  beat  anything  they've  got  in  this  valley 
all  to  pieces,  old  boy,"  Oscar  said,  patting  his  neck. 
Then  his  entire  attention  was  turned  upon  the  field, 
for  two  of  the  finest  ponies  he  had  ever  seen  came 
dashing  down  the  brown  prairie.  They  were  without 
saddles  or  bridles,  except  the  usual  Indian  lip-rope. 
One  was  white,  the  other  black,  and  neck  and  neck 
they  flew  along  the  ground,  while  their  riders,  almost 
naked,  swung  their  long  lashes  in  the  air  and  urged 
them  on. 

Nearer  and  nearer  'they  came,  each  muscle  swell- 
ing, their  nostrils  dilated,  as  with  every  bound  they 
seemed  to  throw  new  life  to  every  nerve,  and  faster 


52  BAGATAWA. 

and  faster  and  faster  they  swept  along,  still  neck  and 
neck,  the  white  against  the  black. 

Oscar  sat  in  his  saddle  as  restive  as  Sancho,  and 
even  Panza,  with  her  ears  pricked  up  and  her  eyes  wide 
open,  stood  panting  and  quivering  with  excitement. 

The  only  beings  who  did  not  seem  to  be  paying 
attention  to  anything  were  a  group  of  Indians  seated 
opposite.  They  seemed  more  than  half-asleep.  Oscar 
wanted  to  shout  to  them  to  wake  up  and  see  the  race, 
when  the  two  beauties  dashed  madly  between  them, 
came  to  a  sudden  halt  which  threw  them  for  an  in- 
stant upon  their  haunches,  and  the  solemn  Indians 
opposite,  declared  that  the  white  had  won  by  half  a 
head. 

Oscar  had  not  recovered  from  his  surprise  at  finding 
that  those  fellows,  appai-ently  so  sleepy,  were  really 
the  judges  and  very  wide  awake,  when  he  started  as 
a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder  and  the  cowboy's 
voice  sounded,  saying,  "You'd  make  a  poor  hand  in 
an  Indian  country  if  you  forgot  yourself  that  way," 
while  with  a  laugh  he  handed  Oscar  his  blanket, 
saddle,  knapsack  and  rifle,  which  he  had  unstrapped 
from  behind  him  while  he  watched  the  race. 

Oscar  laughed,  too,  acknowledging  himself  well- 
caught,  when  he  noticed  that  the  Indians  opposite, 
were  also  laughing. 

"  I  declare,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  low  tone,  "  I  was 
just  thinking  that  those  fellows  over  there  were  sound 


BAGATAWA.  55 

asleep,  when  I  suddenly  discovered  that  they  were  the 
judges  at  the  horse  race,  and  I'm  blest  if  they  were 
not  taking-  in  the  whole  of  this  business,  too,  and  no 
one  knows  how  much  more." 

"  That's  the  dif '  between  a  pale  face  and  a  red," 
replied  his  companion.  "  When  an  Indian's  acting 
he  acts  in  every  inch  of  him,  and  when  he's  not  right 
in  it  he's  so  dull  you'd  think  the  crack  o'  doom  wouldn't 
start  him ;  but  either  way  and  all  the  time  his  eyes 
and  his  senses  are  just  scooping  in  everything.  An 
Indian  will  always  come  upon  you  when  you  don't 
expect  him,  and  where  you  are  not  looking  for  him, 
but  you  can't  get  within  a  mile  of  one  of  those  red 
putty-faces,  unless  he's  drunk,  without  his  knowing  all 
about  it." 

"  Well,  I  thank  you  for  a  very  good  lesson,"  Oscar 
replied,  "  and  another  time  I  shall  try  and  keep  cool 
and  keep  my  wits  about  me.  Have  you  any  news 
from  Black-dog?" 

"  He's  here." 

"  Here  I  "  Oscar  gave  such  a  sudden  start  that 
even  Sancho  jumped. 

"  There  you  go  again,"  said  the  cowboy,  with  an- 
other laugh.  "  I'll  bet  there  isn't  an  Indian  in  that 
bunch  but  knows,  now,  that  we're  here  for  something 
important.  The  next  thing  they'll  find  out  what,  if 
they  can,  and  then  try  to  balk  us,  if  they're  able. 
That's  the  nature  of  the  beast." 


56  BAGATAWA. 

Oscar's  face  showed  his  chagrin,  but  he  simply  said, 
"  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  Down  at  the  medicine  man's  lodge,"  replied  his 
companion.  "  I  found  his  horse  first,  and  then  his 
cart.  They  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  apart  and  a  long 
way  from  the  lodge.  He's  a  sly  skunk.  He's  lying 
low  for  great  business  to-night  and  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, when  they  have  their  big  game  of  Bagatawa." 

"  Could  I  see  him  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  I  doubt  if  you  could  get  at  him,  or  if  'twould  do 
any  good  if  you  did,"  said  the  cowboy.  "  He'd  be 
deuced  up  on  his  dignity,  here  among  his  friends. 
Best  way  is  to  watch  and  catch  him  when  he's  moving 
off.  He'll  not  go  to-night.  We  can  roll  up  some- 
where here  and  take  turns  at  sleeping." 

Oscar  looked  at  Panza  and  was  about  to  say  some- 
thing, when  the  cowboy  continued :  "  She'd  be  all 
right  if  we  were  a  mile  away  from  everything,  but 
right  here  in  the  midst  of  such  a  bunch  any  Indian 
could  get  near  enough  to  fix  her  with  an  arrow  before 
she  opened  her  eyes.  My  advice  is,  that  if  you  want 
to  keep  your  horse  you  had  better  keep  awake." 

Oscar  was  rapidly  learning  much  that  proved  in- 
valuable to  him  before  long.  He  saw  that  the  cowboy 
was  right,  and  though  it  looked  like  cowardice  at  first, 
he  soon  made  up  his  mind  that  it  was  not. 

They  rode  along  the  bank  of  the  river  till  they 
found  a  good  place  on  a  little  knoll.  There  they 


BAGATAWA.  57 

unsaddled  their  horses  and  let  them  feed  while  Panza 
watched  them,  and  they  built  a  fire  and  cooked  their 
supper. 

As  they  brought  their  horses  in  the  cowboy  said : 
"  I  reckon  you'd  better  watch  for  the  first  half,  'cause 
it's  new  to  you,  and  if  you  tried  to  sleep  you'd  only 
lie  awake  and  make  a  whole  night  of  it  by  the  means. 
You  watch  till  twelve,  and  you'll  be  tired  enough  to 
sleep  anywhere." 

He  took  the  halter  in  his  hand  and  very  easily  made 
his  horse  lie  down.  Then  he  lay  down  close  beside 
him,  all  rolled  up  in  his  blanket. 

"  He  likes  it,  and  it  keeps  a  fellow  warm,  cold  nights," 
he  added,  seeing  Oscar  watching  him.  "  Besides,  it's 
harder  to  steal  him  this  way,  and  he  wakes  a  fellow  up 
mighty  quick,  with  his  sniffing,  when  anything's  wrong, 
if  you're  close  enough  to  feel  it." 

Sancho  had  been  watching  very  closely,  too,  and  it 
occurred  to  Oscar  that  he  would  like  to  teach  him  the 
trick,  so  he  took  the  halter  just  as  he  had  seen  the 
cowboy  when,  to  his  siirprise,  Sancho  lay  right  down 
almost  as  quickly  as  Panza  could. 

Not  to  disappoint  him,  Oscar  threw  his  blanket 
around  him,  and  sat  'down  with  his  back  against 
Sancho's,  and  Panza  curled  up  at  his  feet.  He  could 
not  make  up  his  mind  whether  it  was  a  trick  which 
Sancho  had  been  taught  before  he  was  sent  to  England 
or  had  caught  just  by  watching  the  cowboy's  horse. 


58  BAGATAWA. 

He  was  quite  sure  that  Sancho  was  clever  enough  for 
either.  Very  soon,  however,  he  gave  up  thinking  to 
watch  the  Indians  in  the  valley. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night.  A  fire  of  pitch- 
pine  burned  upon  the  river  bank  not  far  away.  About 
it  the  Indians  were  dancing,  to  the  beating  of  drums 
and  the  rattle  of  dried  gourds  filled  with  pebbles,  pre- 
paring themselves  for  the  great  game  the  next  day. 

After  dancing  for  nearly  an  hour  they  stopped  short, 
made  a  rush  for  the  river  and  plunged  into  the  ice-cold 
water. 

Oscar  had  often  heard  of  Bagatawa,  but  he  had 
never  seen  the  game  played  or  witnessed  the  prepara- 
tory ceremonies  which  always  take  place  through  the 
night  before  the  contest.  Even  the  squaws  were  tak- 
ing part,  and  the  whole  camp  seemed  awake  and  active. 
He  had  no  idea  what  time  it  Was  when  the  cowboy 
opened  his  eyes,  lifted  his  head  just  high  enough  to 
look  quickly  about  in  every  Direction,  then  sat  up, 
turned  his  watch  to  the  moonlight,  and  remarked, 
"  Twelve  o'clock  to  the  dot.  Now  it's  your  turn." 

"Have  you  been  awake  long?"  Oscar  asked. 

"  Not  a  second,"  said  the  cowboy,  rising  and  stretch- 
ing. "  A  fellow  gets  a  sort  of  clockwork  inside  of  him, 
lying  round  loose  on  the  prairie  for  a  living.  Now  you 
turn  in  quick,  so's  not  to  lose  time." 

Oscar  was  sure  that  he  waked  up  several  times,  and 
thought  he  had  not  slept  at  all ;  but  when  he  finally 


BAGATAWA.  59 

got  his  eyes  wide  open  he  was  surprised  to  find  that 
the  sun  was  almost  up,  and  that  the  cowboy  had  the 
fire  kindled  and  breakfast  cooking. 

"  I  spoke  to  you  a  little  while  ago,"  he  said,  "  but 
you  were  so  sound  asleep  I  thought  it  would  pay  you 
to  take  another  turn.  Pretty  stiff  in  the  joints,  are 
you?  Well,  it  won't  last.  Just  run  for  all  you're 
worth  down  to  the  river  and  back,  and  see  how  quick 
you'll  forget  it." 

Oscar  tried  the  experiment.  At  first  it  seemed  as 
though  he  could  not  put  one  foot  before  the  other  but, 
though  it  was  only  a  very  short  distance,  by  the  time 
he  was  back  again  he  felt  a  warm  glow  from  head  to 
foot,  and  was  ready  to  enjoy  any  kind  of  a  breakfast 
that  could  be  eaten. 

Indians  from  all  sides  were  gathering  about  the  place 
that  had  been  selected  for  the  game.  They  were  all 
dressed  in  their  holiday  best,  and  bright  colors  flashed 
and  merry  shouts  resounded  everywhere.  As  the  boys 
rode  down  among  them  Oscar  thought  he  had  never 
seen  Indians  look  so  clean  in  all  his  life. 

Those  who  were  to  take  part  in  the  game  were 
gathered  at  opposite  ends  of  the  field,  entirely  naked, 
except  for  the  little  breech-cloth,  and  a  long  wolf  tail 
or  fox  tail  hanging  down  behind.  The  height  of  fash- 
ion demanded  that  it  should  be  a  white  horse-tail,  but 
very  few  could  support  that  luxury.  Many  were  covered 
with  bright  war-paint  and  bands  of  eagle  feathers  about 


60  BAGATAWA. 

their  heads,  tossing  in  the  air  as  they  danced  and  laughed 
and  shouted  threats  and  taunts  to  the  other  side. 

Forty  or  fifty  men  on  each  side  were  gathered  about 
their  respective  goals,  which  were  made  by  planting  two 
long  poles  in  the  ground  and  fastening  a  crossbar  at 
the  top.  Each  player  held  two  sticks,  about  three  feet 
long,  bent  into  a  loop  at  the  end  and  held  there  by  a 
netting  of  leather  cord. 

A  tall  old  Indian  patriarch,  all  covered  over  with 
beads  and  feathers,  and  wrapped  in  a  gorgeous  new 
blanket,  walked  solemnly  into  the  center  of  the  field 
and  gave  a  signal,  at  which  all  the  players  laid  down 
their  sticks  and  came  together.  Then  the  chief  counted 
the  sides  and  each  man  chose  his  antagonist.  The  chief 
made  a  short  speech,  the  players  went  back  and  took 
up  their  sticks,  a  medicine  man  came  forward  with 
a  large  ball,  the  chief  gave  a  signal,  and  the  medicine 
man  threw  the  ball  into  the  air  with  all  his  might. 

Up  to  that  time  everything  had  been  as  still  as 
death.  The  players  stood  like  statues.  But  the  mo- 
ment the  ball  went  up,  a  shout  rose  from  the  crowd  of 
spectators  and  every  muscle  of  every  player  on  the 
field  seemed  suddenly  to  start  into  action.  From  that 
instant  the  game  went  on  without  a  moment's  rest. 
The  players  would  rush  toward  the  flying  ball  regard- 
less of  any  one  about  them.  They  would  catch  it  if 
they  could  between  their  sticks  or,  if  not,  then  strike 
it  and  send  it  as  far  as  possible  toward  the  enemy's 


BAG  ATA  WA.  61 

goal.  If  they  could  not  do,  that  they  tried  to  prerent 
some  opponent  who  was  nearer  from  doing  the  same, 
and  if  too  far  away  for  that  they  did  their  best  to  pre- 
vent the  enemy  from  getting  any  nearer  than  they 
were. 

They  were  not  allowed  to  touch  the  ball  or  other 
players  with  their  hands,  but  must  always  use  the 
sticks.  Sometimes  they  rushed  together  with  such  force 
as  to  leap  upon  one  another's  shoulders,  and  carry  on 
the  struggle  up  there  for  a  moment.  They  would  dart 
between  an  adversary's  legs,  leaving  him  sprawling  on 
the  ground  the  moment  he  thought  he  had  successfully 
caught  the  ball.  They  piled  themselves  up  three  or 
four  deep  over  it  when  the  ball  fell  and  was  lost  for  a 
noment  in  the  crowd,  but  none  of  them  wore  shoes  or 
even  moccasins,  so  that  there  were  none  of  the  bruises 
of  football  as  the  result. 

For  some  minutes  the  boys  had  been  watching  a  tall, 
handsome  fellow  who  had  hung  about  the  rear  at  the 
start,  but  had  suddenly  made  a  dive  into  the  thick  of 
the  game.  "  He's  got  it !  He's  got  it !  "  Oscar  ex- 
claimed as  he  made  a  bound  and  nipped  the  ball  be- 
tween the  nettings  on  his  sticks,  several  feet  in  the  air. 

"  And  he'll  keep  it,  too,  for  one  while,"  replied  the 
cowboy. 

It  seemed  impossible,  but  he  sprang  right  over  the 
heads  of  those  about  him  and  darted  away  like  a  deer, 
holding  his  hands  high  above  his  head.  In  an  instant 


62 


BAGATAWA. 


the  whole  band  of  players  was  after  him,  to  help  or 
hinder,  to  head  him  off,  trip  him  up,  knock  the  ball 
from  between  his  sticks — anything  to  prevent  his  get- 
ting it  to  the  goal. 

Now  he  leaped  into  the  air  to  escape  a  foot  or  a  stick 
thrnst  out  to  trip  him,  then  he  sprang  to  one  side  to 
dodge  a  fellow  who  made  a  quick  dive  to  run  into  him. 


BAGATAWA. 


He  left  him  sprawling  on  the  ground  instead,  for  half 
a  dozen  to  trip  over,  before  they  could  turn,  and  a 
comically  wriggling  pile  they  made,  each  trying  to  re- 
gain his  feet  regardless  of  the  others. 

The  runner  was  far  away  from  them  in  a  twinkling, 
making  for  the  goal  about  as  a  yacht  makes  for  a  land- 
ing against  a  head  wind.  But  dodging,  leaping,  run- 
ning, turning,  he  was  constantly  coming  nearer. 


'BAGATAWA.  63 

Suddenly  the  ball  went  out  of  sight,  and  with  a  groan 
Oscar  exclaimed,  "  He's  lost  it !  "  But  it  was  up  again 
before  he  had  finished.  The  Indian  had  not  dropped 
it.  He  had  simply  ducked  to  avoid  a  sudden  blow 
aimed  by  a  player  who  sprang  upon  him  from  one  side, 
and  the  stick  whirled  harmlessly  over  his  head.  The 
next  instant  he  was  darting  on  again  with  the  ball 
high  in  the  air. 

It  was  growing  desperate.  Some  of  the  players  left 
the  chase  to  gather  nearer  the  goal  by  a  short  out  and 
intercept  him.  A  dozen  at  least  were  close  behind,  and 
a  dozen  more  running  from  the  side  when  he  sprang 
into  a  cluster  of  trees.  The  whole  were  after  him  in 
an  instant,  but  they  had  no  sooner  entered  the  tangled 
grove  than  he  turned  upon  them,  shot  back  again 
directly  through  their  midst,  and  was  out  of  the  grove, 
between  the  goal  and  his  pursuers,  with  three  or  four 
yards  of  distance  gained  before  they  appeared.  A 
tremendous  shout  rose  from  those  who  were  watching 
the  game  as  he  started  off  in  a  direct  line  for  the  goal. 

Pie  seemed  to  be  made  of  eyes,  watching  his  oppo- 
nents in  front  and  behind  and  on  all  sides  of  him, 
watching  his  path  over  the  rough  ground,  watching 
the  ball  that  it  should  not  slip  from  between  the 
sticks,  watching  the  goal  for  the  best  chance  of  reach- 
ing it,  running  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  with  his  hands 
all  the  time  high  above  his  head. 

The  players  about  the  goal  ran  out  to  meet  him. 


64  BAGATAWA. 

Three  of  them  came  up  directly  in  front,  whirling 
their  sticks  about  their  heads.  Two  ran  toward  him 
from  the  side.  He  dodged  to  escape  them,  when  one 
from  behind  quickly  thrust  a  stick  between  his  legs 
and  he  plunged  forward  at  full  length  upon  the 
ground.  There  was  a  groan  from  the  spectators,  and 
in  an  instant  the  whole  party  of  players,  of  whichever 
side,  came  piling  in  on  top  of  him. 

Then  everything  was  still,  and  all  stood  watching 
the  struggling  mass,  when  suddenly  there  was  an  erup- 
tion in  its  midst  like  a  miniature  volcano.  Up,  out  of 
the  center,  the  same  fellow  appeared,  the  players  rolled 
this  way  and  that,  he  sprang  upon  the  top  of  the  pile 
with  the  ball  still  firmly  nipped  between  his  sticks,  and 
with  one  bound  cleared  the  whole,  leaving  the  struggling 
mass  behind  him,  and  started  like  the  wind  for  the  un- 
protected goal.  Bound  after  bound  was  breathlessly 
watched  and  when,  a  moment  later,  the  ball  flew  under 
the  arch  and  the  point  was  gained,  the  whole  crowd 
sent  up  one  Indian  yell  that  might  almost  have  split 
the  sky. 

"  I  tell  you,  but  that's  a  game !  "  Oscar  said,  with  a 
quivering  breath,  at  the  end.  "And  yet  it's  for  all 
the  world  like  Lacrosse." 

"  It's  the  origin  of  Lacrosse,"  replied  his  companion. 

"  Why,  they  told  me  in  England  that  Lacrosse  was 
a  Scotch  game,"  said  Oscar,  but  the  cowboy  only 
laughed  and  shook  his  head. 


BAGATAWA.  67 

"  They'd  rather  do  anything  than  credit  a  single 
good  idea  to  an  Indian,"  he  replied.  "  But  the  fact 
remains,  and  you'll  find  that  it  is  a  fact." 

"  It's  awfully  interesting,"  Oscar  repeated. 

"  I  reckon  Black-dog  thought  you'd  find  it  so,"  said 
the  cowboy,  "  for  he  and  his  wife  lit  out  half  an  hour 
ago.  I  saw  um  starting  up  the  mountain  trail." 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  "  Oscar  exclaimed. 

"'Twould  'a'  spoiled  the  game  for  you  before  you're 
used  to  taking  in  three  or  four  things  at  once.  We 
can  catch  him  easy." 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  had  your  eyes,"  Oscar  muttered. 

"  I  couldn't  spare  them  very  well ;  but  you'll  have 
better  ones  of  your  own  as  soon  as  you've  had  to  do 
some  watching  out  with  life  and  death  at  stake,"  he 
replied,  as  they  started  after  Black-dog. 

A  half-hour  later  they  heard  a  sharp  altercation  not 
far  ahead,  in  which  an  Indian's  voice  was  prominent. 

"  That's  him,  sure's  fate  !  "  whispered  the  cowboy. 
"  The  soldiers  have  got  him.  You  want  to  put  in  your 
whack  lively,  for  it's  the  last  you'll  see  of  him  for  some 
time  to  come." 

They  hurried  on  and  soon  came  upon  the  scene.  A 
soldier  of  the  mounted  police  held  the  white-faced 
horse,  and  one  sat  on  either  side  with  a  pistol  pointed 
at  Black-dog's  head,  while  the  poor  half-breed,  in  his 
big  fur  cap,  holding  up  his  hand  to  surrender,  was  the 
very  picture  of  despair. 


68  BAGATAWA. 

After  a  little  explanation  Oscar  obtained  permission 
to  speak  with  the  prisoner  for  a  moment,  and  crawled 
up  to  the  seat  beside  him. 

Black-dog's  story  was  disconnected  enough,  but 
Oscar  gathered  from  it  that  a  stranger  from  the  States 
had  stopped  at  his  cabin  for  a  week.  He  said  he  was 
a  miner  and  spent  some  time  at  the  mines.  He  was 
inside  the  cabin  when  the  master  stopped  at  the  door 
and  told  Black-dog  that  he  was  going  up  the  lake  to 
place  a  sawmill,  and  that  he  must  either  go  to  lum- 
bering or  leave  the  place.  When  the  master  left  the 
stranger  said  he  was  going  hunting,  and  sent  Black- 
dog  to  Wawanka  to  have  slug-holds  put  on  his  boots. 
He  had  a  fine  English  hollow-ball  rifle.  He  took  Black- 
dog's  horse,  promising  to  bring  it  back  the  next  day ; 
but  Black-dog  was  in  haste.  He  did  not  want  the 
master  to  force  him  to  go  into  the  woods,  and  he  did 
want  to  secure  some  whiskey  for  the  encampment,  so  he 
started  on  foot,  telling  his  squaw  to  come  on  the  next 
day  with  the  cart.  The  horse  did  not  come  back,  so  she 
borrowed  the  first  one  she  could  find  and  followed  him. 

The  story  had  some  truth  in  it,  at  any  rate,  and, 
satisfied  that,  true  or  false,  it  was  all  he  could  get  out 
of  the  half-breed,  Oscar  left  him  and  with  his  compan- 
ion started  for  home  again.  The  cowboy  left  him  at 
the  Peterson  Ranch,  a  few  miles  from  the  village,  and, 
after  dark,  with  Panza  beside  him,  Oscar  left  Sancho 
at  the  stable  and  entered  the  house  on  the  butte. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NOT   FOR   GOLD. 

THE  house  was  dark  and  still.  The  two  servants 
had  doubtless  retired,  and  Oscar  entered  softly,  that 
he  might  not  disturb  them.  He  heard  a  fire  crackling 
and  burning  in  the  great,  oak-finished  room  which, 
through  the  winter,  was  used  as  a  reception-room  and 
office,  as  well  as  dining-room,  on  account  of  its  enor- 
mous fireplace.  It  had  been  raining  hard  through  the 
evening,  and  saying  to  himself  that  the  servants  must 
have  half-expected  him  that  night  and  lit  the  fire  for 
him,  he  hurried  to  his  room,  threw  off  his  wet  clothes, 
and  in  a  woollen  shirt,  trousers  and  slippers  came  down 
to  the  great  dining-room. 

The  table  was  spread  with  an  elaborate  meal,  and  set 
for  three  people.  Oscar  was  perplexed,  but  hungry, 
and  without  waiting  to  inquire  into  it  he  sat  down  and 
ate  a  hearty  supper.  Then  drawing  his  chair  to  the 
fire  he  began  to  think. 

The  doctor  had  extracted  the  fatal  bullet,  and  he 
69 


70  NOT    FOR    GOLD. 

had  found  the  one  buried  in  the  wolf  skins.  They 
were  the  same,  and  came  from  a  hollow-ball  English 
rifle.  The  heel  and  the  boots  he  obtained  from  Wa- 
wanka  matched.  Black-dog  and  Wawanka  had  de- 
scribed the  stranger  in  almost  the  same  terms.  The 
man  was  conversant  with  mines  and  mining,  and  evi- 
dently went  up  the  lake  for  the  express  purpose  of 
firms:  that  shot.  Oscar  remembered  what  his  father 

O 

said  about  the  new  mine  in  the  States,  and  something 
forced  the  conviction  upon  him  that  the  agent  of  whom 
he  spoke  was  the  man"  for  him  to  find. 

He  turned  to  Panza,  lying  behind  his  chair,  and 
said  :  "  That  is  our  duty,  Panza.  We'll  stick  to  it  till 
it  is  done.  We'll  need  all  the  money  that  the  estate 
can  earn  to  help  us,  but  we  will  do  it." 

Suddenly  voices  sounded  outside  the  house.  They 
were  rough,  strange  voices,  and  Panza  began  to  growl. 

"  Be  quiet,"  Oscar  said,  sitting  erect  and  listening. 

They  came  nearer.  Heavy  footsteps  sounded  in  the 
hall.  The  door  burst  open  and  with  a  boisterous  laugh 
three  men  entered.  One  was  an  Indian  and  two  were 
white  men.  They  were  all  heavily  armed,  and  all 
strangers.  Panza  was  ready  to  spring  upon  them,  but 
Oscar  held  her  back  and  she  lay  down  again  behind 
his  chair. 

"  Halloo,  youngster  !  "  exclaimed  the  one  who  seemed 
to  be  the  leader,  as  he  noticed  the  boy  sitting  in  the 
great  fireplace.  "Be  you  young  Peterson  ?  Surely 


NOT   FOR   GOLD.  73 

thought  you'd  skipped.  Couldn't  find  ye  nowhar,  an' 
been  kinder  makin'  myself  ter  hum,  meanwhiles,  bein' 
I'm  likely  ter  be  ter  hum  here,  fur  the  most  part,  frum 
now  on ;  an'  sence  I  found  ye  I  mought's  well  sarve 
this  slip  o'  paper  on  ye  right  now,  afore  we  furgit  it, 
ter  show  yer  my  'thority." 

Oscar  had  not  been  away  from  the  refinement  of 
civilization  long  enough  to  understand  the  roughness 
of  frontier  life,  and  his  idea  of  dignity  was  so  outraged 
that,  irrespective  of  the  man's  mission  or  business,  he 
was  thoroughly  indignant,  and  without  touching  the 
paper  he  turned  deliberately  away,  resting  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  sat  looking  into  the  fire. 

"Stuffy,  eh?"  observed  the  man.  "Waal,  I 
reckoned  yer  mought  be,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  An' 
sence  ye  won't  look  at  the  paper  I'll  take  the  liberty 
o'  givin'  ye  the  contents  by  word  o'  mouth.  Seems 
yer  dad  gin  a  deed  o'  this  property  an'  a  bill  o'  sale  o' 
what's  on  it,  fur  vallerble  consideration,  ter  the  man  I 
represents.  An'  he's  had  'em  didy  administered  'cordin' 
ter  law,  an'  I  'pinted  ter  look  arter  the  investment, 
git  what  I  kin  outer  it  —  sell  off  as  I  have  opportunity, 
an'  so  forth.  Not  findin'  yer  I've  been  round  fur  a 
couple  o'  days  takin'  possession  an'  straightenin'  things 
out.  Now  I  don't  want  no  trouble,  an'  I  ain't  goin' 
ter  hurt  nobody  ef  I  kin  help  it."  He  was  becoming 
aggressive  as  Oscar  refused  to  pay  him  the  slightest 
attention.  "I  tell  yer  I  don't  want  no  trouble,  an' 


74  NOT   FOR    GOLD. 

thar  won't  be  none  unless'n  you  make  it.  But  I'm 
here  under  bonds,  ter  do  my  duty,  an'  you've  got  ter 
git.  Do  ye  hear  me?"  he  exclaimed,  bringing  a 
chair  about  in  front  of  the  fire  opposite  Oscar,  resting 
his  foot  upon  it  while  his  arms  swung  over  the  back  ; 
and  the  two  who  were  with  him  edged  forward,  ready 
to  seize  the  boy  when  he  gave  the  word.  "  Do  ye 
hear  me  ?  I  ain't  a-goin'  ter  draw  on  a  kid,  leastwise 
on  one  as  hasn't  his  shootin'-irons  about  him ;  but  you 
look  a-here,  youngster."  He  pushed  back  the  sleeve 
of  his  shirt,  exhibiting  a  brawny,  muscular  arm.  "  I 
don't  need  nuthin  ter  handle  you  with.  Ef  you  don't 
git,  in  good  peaceable  shape,  you  know  what  that 
means,"  and  he  swung  his  arm  about  suggestively. 

Like  a  flash  Oscar  was  upon  his  feet.  His  chair  fell 
with  a  crash  behind  him.  His  fists  were  clinched,  his 
head  erect,  and  Panza  by  his  side  his  very  counterpart. 

"Were  you  shaking  your  fist  at  me?  "  he  muttered, 
looking  savagely  across  the  hearth ;  for  the  chair  upon 
which  the  fellow  had  been  leaning  stood  empty.  The 
two  behind  him  had  backed  up  against  the  wall,  and 
the  leader  was  as  close  to  them  as  he  could  crowd. 

"  No,  sir  !  No,  sir  ;  I  wus  not,"  he  said  decidedly. 
"  I  wus  only  tryin'  ter  explain  how  matters  stood,  an' 
if  I  did  it  wrong  I  'pologize.  Thar  !  Ef  that's  fair 
an'  you'll  excuse  us  I  reckon  we'll  go  now.  Thar 
ain't  no  haste  'bout  yer  vacatin'.  Take  yer  time. 
JTur's  I'm  consarned,- 1  don't  care  if  yer  never  go." 


NOT   FOR   GOLD.  75 

Oscar  folded  his  arms  and  calmly  asked,  "  Is  what 
you  have  told  me  about  this  property  true?" 

"  Here's  my  paper  of  authority,  sir,  signed  by  the 
holder  of  the  deed,  indorsed  by  the  court  at  Winni- 
peg," the  man  replied,  humbly. 

"  Do  you  claim  everything  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  'Tween  the  deed  an'  bill  o'  sale,  sir,  it's  pretty 
much  all  covered,  I  reckon,  sir." 

"  You  have  been  stopping  here,  I  think  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  beggin'  yer  pardon,  sir.  Thar  wus  no  in- 
sult intended,  an'  we  kin  jes'  as  well  go  summars  else." 

Oscar  noticed  the  two  behind  him  cast  a  longing 
glance  at  the  table,  and  replied :  "  You  may  as  well 
eat  your  supper  here ;  it  seems  to  be  ready  ;  and  you 
may  as  well  sleep  where  you  have  found  beds  before. 
You  would  be  perfectly  welcome,  if  I  owned  the  prop- 
erty, so  long  as  you  were  civil.  I  did  not  know  that  my 
father  had  deeded  this  property  to  any  one,  and  I  think 
there  is  some  mistake ;  but  I  have  no  time  now  to  con- 
sider the  matter.  I  own  a  horse,  in  the  stable,  which 
I  brought  with  me  from  England,  a  month  ago,  and  I 
own  this  dog."  For  an  instant  his  eyes  fell  and  rested 
lovingly  on  Panza.  The  man  cringed  and  muttered, 
"Yes,  sir."  Oscar  continued :  "Supposing  that  you 
are  right,  within  an  hour  we  three  will  leave  here  for 
—  perhaps  forever.  If  I  should  accomplish  my  busi- 
ness and  return  it  may  be  that  we  shall  discover  some 
mistake.  Come,  Panza,  we  must  be  going." 


76  NOT    FOR   GOLD. 

"  I  say,  mister,"  exclaimed  the  fellow  in  a  very  dif- 
ferent tone,  "  thar  ain't  no  need  o'  your  goin'.  I'm 
sorry  I  put  it  as  I  did.  Is  that  thar  hoss  I  see  in  the 
stable,  the  light-colored  one,  the  hoss  you  speak  of?" 

Oscar  was  moving  toward  the  door  as  he  replied. 
"  Well,  sir,"  continued  the  man,  "  it's  the  puttiest 
piece  of  hoss-flesh  I've  ever  sot  eyes  on,  an'  I'll  tell 
yer  what  I'll  do  ;  I'll  gin  yer  a  clean  deed  o'  this  house 
an'  all  the  land  yer  want  round  it  in  swap  fur  that 
hoss,  an'  I'll  make  it  good  with  the  owner." 

"Not  if  you'd  give  me  the  whole  farm,"  Oscar  said, 
decidedly,  with  his  hand  upon  the  door. 

"  Ef  yer'd  druther  have  gold  I'll  gin  yer  five  hun- 
dred clean,  outer  my  own  pocket,"  the  fellow  pleaded, 
coming  a  step  forward. 

"  No ;  not  for  gold,"  said  Oscar.  "  If  you'd  give 
me  his  weight  in  diamonds  I  would  not  part  with  that 
horse  for  an  hour.." 

As  Oscar  opened  the  door  the  man  added,  "  I'd 
treat  him  like  a  baby,  sir.  Thar  shouldn't  a  har  o' 
his  hide  be  teched  by  nobody  ;  "  but  he  closed  the  door 
behind  him  and  went  out.  As  he  climbed  the  stairs 
with  Panza  he  heard  the  man's  voice  exclaiming,  "  By 
the  great  horn  spoon !  but  that  youngster  beats  a 
regiment !  " 

Going  to  his  room  Oscar  put  on  his  strongest  hunt- 
ing boots  and  a  rough  Manitoba  suit,  his  cartridge 
belt  and  pistol.  He  took  his  rifle  and  blankets,  and 


NOT    FOR    GOLD.  77 

what  was  necessary  that  he  could  strap  upon  his  saddle, 
and  went  to  the  stable  with  the  intention  of  going  back 
to  the  ranch  and  his  friend  the  cowboy,  till  he  could 
determine  what  to  do.  As  he  threw  the  saddle  over 
Sancho  he  muttered,  "  Well,  Panza,  we  have  not  got 
the  property  to  help  us,  after  all,  but  we  three  are  left, 
and  we  will  do  it  by  ourselves." 

The  rain  had  ceased  and  the  moon  was  bright  as  he 
rode  slowly  down  the  village  street  where  everything 
was  deserted  and  still.  Only  in  the  log  cabin  a  faint 
light  was  still  burning.  There  must  be  some  trouble 
there.  Possibly  his  old  nurse  was  worse.  The  thought 
that  in  his  own  trouble  he  was  about  to  leave,  perhaps 
forever,  without  saying  farewell  to  the  Indians  in  the 
log  cabin,  disturbed  him,  and  without  a  second  thought 
he  dismounted  and  knocked  on  the  oak  door. 

It  was  opened  by  Wenononee,  with  Wetamoc  close 
behind  her,  and  as  a  flood  of  moonlight  fell  over  them 
Oscar  started  back.  For  a  moment  he  stood  staring 
at  the  little  Indian  girl.  Once  before  he  had  seen  that 
face  and  though,  in  the  sorrow  and  changes  of  the  past 
few  weeks,  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  more  than  once  or 
twice  even  to  wonder  whose  face  it  was,  that  once  was 
a  moment  and  a  face  that  he  could  never  forget,  and 
now  the  flood  of  moonlight  brought  it  all  back  to  him 
as  vividly  as  upon  the  stormy  afternoon  when  he  looked 
up  out  of  the  water  and  saw  the  face  of  the  Indian 
girl  bending  over  the  side  of  the  yacht  to  save  him. 


78 


NOT   FOR   GOLD. 


Wenononee  shrank  back  behind  Wetamoc,  but 
Oscar  sprang  forward  and  caught  her  hand.  "  Is  this 
Wenononee?  Is  this  Mama's  little  pappoose  ?  "  he 
exclaimed. 

Weno  bowed  her  head. 

"  It  was  you  who  saved  my  life  out  on  the  lake,  and 
you  who  brought  in  the  yacht,  with  my  father,"  he 


"WENONONEE  1" 


continued.  "  O,  Wenononee !  how  much,  how  much 
I  owe  to  you  and  to  your  mother  for  all  that  you  and 
your  people  have  done  for  me  and  my  father !  Some 
day  —  some  day  or  other  I  hope  I  may  be  able  to  show 


NOT   FOR   GOLD.  79 

you  how  I  thank  you.  To-night  I  have  nothing.  J 
have  no  home,  nor  anything  in  all  the  world  but  my 
horse  and  dog.  I  think  that  some  one  is  trying  to 
cheat  me,  but  I  cannot  tell  yet.  I  only  know  that 
they  have  taken  everything  away  from  me,  and  I  came 
to  say  good-by." 

"  Young  master  got  no  home  !  Young  master  go  ?  " 
cried  Weno,  catching  his  hand  in  both  of  hers.  "  Oh ! 
if  Indian  squaw  had  home  young  master  should  have 
all  of  it.  But  pale  face  come  to  Indian  wigwam,  too, 
and  say  Indian  squaw  no  pay  rent  Indian  squaw  must 
go." 

"  He  has  turned  you  out,  too  ?  "  Oscar  stepped  back 
aghast,  and  even  in  the  moonlight  his  face  was  dark 
with  rage.  "  Had  he  a  right  to  do  a  thing  so  brutal  ? 
Wenononee,  your  mother  is  too  ill  to  go.  Your  grand- 
mother is  too  old.  They  must  not !  They  shall  not 
go.  Wait  a  minute.  I  have  one  chance  left.  Tell 
them  quickly  that  they  need  not  go.  The  man«who 
said  so  shall  come,  in  the  morning,  and  tell  you  to  stay 
forever.  There,  there!  Light  the  fire  again.  Put 
the  things  back  where  they  belong.  The  wigwam  is 
yours,  and  always  shall  be." 

Weno  was  bending  over  to  kiss  his  hand,  but  he 
drew  it  away,  and  leaping  upon  his  horse  without 
touching  the  stirrup,  he  rode  swiftly  back  the  way  he 
came. 

Oscar  was   too  thoroughly  occupied  with  his  own 


80  NOT   FOR   GOLD. 

thoughts  to  look  behind  him,  and  even  if  he  had  he 
might  not  have  seen  the  fleeting  shadow  that  as  silently 
as  a  ghost,  but  swift  as  Sancho,  followed  in  his  path  as 
he  climbed  the  butte  again. 

When  he  reached  the  house  Weno  was  there.  He 
did  not  see  her,  but  she  was  watching  him.  She  saw 
him  dismount.  She  saw  him  put  his  arm  over  Sancho's 
neck  and  lay  his  cheek  against  his  nose.  She  saw  him 
go  up  and  open  the  door,  letting  the  bright  light  stream 
down  the  steps,  and  then  turn  back  again  to  Sancho. 
She  saw  him  stand  for  a  moment  with  one  clinched 
fist  resting  on  the  stone  balustrade  and  one  on  Sancho 
as  he  looked  into  the  open  door.  Then  she  saw  him 
resolutely  enter  the  house  and  she  knew  what  it  meant, 
though  she  was  only  an  Indian  girl. 

Half  an  hour  later  Weno  was  still  at  hand.  She 
was  crouching  in  the  shrubbery  as  he  passed.  Her 
face  was  very  pale  for  an  Indian,  even  in  the  moon- 
light, and  her  cheeks  were  wet  with  tears  as  she  watched 
the  young  master.  His  head  was  bowed.  His  strong 
heart  was  almost  broken.  Even  Panza  felt  the  weight 
of  the  burden  that  bore  upon  him.  Her  head  hung 
down  and  her  step  was  heavy  and  slow. 

Oscar  had  strapped  the  saddle  knapsack  and  blanket 
upon  his  own  back,  and  once  more  started  upon  his 
mission. 

As  he  passed  the  spot  where  Weno  was  crouch- 
ing she  heard  him  say,  "  Well,  Panza,  you  and  I  are 


NOT    FOR    GOLD. 


81 


left  and  we  must  forget  everything  but  our  duty  and 
do  it  if  we  can." 

He  struck  out  over  the  plain,  never  dreaming  that 
the  shadowy  form  of  a  little  Indian  girl  was  hovering 
in  the  distance,  always  too  far  away  to  be  detected, 
always  near  enough  never  to  lose  sight  of  him. 


UPON   HIS  MISSION. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE. 

OSCAR  entered  the  ranch-house  without  ceremony, 
and  the  dusky  shadow  which  had  been  following  him 
disappeared. 

The  house  was  a  large  and  comfortable  log  cabin, 
fitted  up  for  the  cowboys  and  other  ranch  hands  dur- 
ing the  winter.  It  was  surrounded  by  commodious 
out-buildings  and  corrals.  A  forest  sheltered  it  upon 
the  north  and  extended  to  the  cliffs  and  foot-hills,  a 
mile  or  more  away. 

The  buildings  stood  upon  the  extreme  eastern  limit 
of  the  grazing  lands,  nearest  the  settlement,  while  the 
prairie  where  the  cattle  pastured  stretched  away  to  the 
west,  only  limited  by  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  north- 
ern arm  of  the  Assiniboin  formed  the  southern  bound- 
ary, and  many  little  tributaries  coming  from  the 
mountains  watered  the  broad  valley. 

It  was  the  ideal  cattle  range  of  Manitoba,-  and  better 
than  many  even  farther  south  than  South  Dakota. 

82 


AT   THE   RANCH-HOUSE.  83 

From  early  spring  till  fall  the  cattle  wandered  steadily 
westward,  with  little  opportunity  to  stray  away  or  die 
of  thirst,  as  is  so  often  the  case  farther  south.  In  the 
fall  there  was  a  grand  round  up,  all  along  the  line, 
and  they  were  driven  back  to  winter  quarters  near  the 
ranch-house,  where  the  grass  had  been  growing  all 
summer  for  their  winter  supply,  and  where  they  could 
find  shelter  from  the  snow  in  the  forest,  and  from  the 
fierce  winds  under  the  high  cliffs. 

The  corrals  were  made  of  posts  planted  firmly  and 
close  together,  entered  by  passages  which  gradually 
grew  narrower  till  only  one  animal  could  pass  at  a 
time.  These  were  used  for  branding,  for  every  ranch 
from  Manitoba  to  Mexico  has  its  own  brand  to  mark 
its  property,  and  a  calf  following  a  cow  is  always 
branded  with  the  mark  of  the  cow.  Then  follows  the 
sorting  for  market  and  the  departure  of  the  drove 
selected  for  the  nearest  railway  station,  and  the  merri- 
est time  on  the  ranch  is  over.  Everything  settles  down, 
then,  to  make  the  best  of  the  long,  cold  winter.  A 
part  of  the  cowboys  turn  lumbermen  and  trappers,  for 
very  few  are  needed  upon  the  ranch.  The  cattle  will 
not  stray  far,  and  wolves  and  Indians  are  the  only  in- 
vaders that  must  be  kept  at  a  distance. 

All  along  the  prairie,  stretching  westward,  there 
were  little  huts,  or  dugouts,  or  bark  lodges,  at  intervals 
of  a  mile  or  two,  occupied,  one  after  another,  by  the 
cowboys  as  the  cattle  moved  westward,  through  the 


84  AT   THE   RANCH-HOUSE. 

summer.  They  had  already  been  away  for  nearly  a 
month,  and  no  one  remained  at  the  ranch-house  but 
the  keeper  and  an  assistant. 

Visitors  are  rare  at  ranch-houses  anywhere,  but 
especially  so  upon  the  comparatively  few  ranges  of 
Manitoba,  even  in  mid-summer. 

At  stated  times  supplies  are  brought  by  "  Prairie 
schooners  "  —  great  covered  wagons,  drawn  by  long 
lines  of  mules  or  oxen,  driven  by  bronzed  and  weather- 
beaten  "bull-whackers,"  or  "mule-skinners."  Now 
and  then  parties  of  hunters  stopped  for  the  night  on 
their  way  to  the  forests,  and  at  long  intervals  a  little 
band  of  emigrants  would  pass,  on  its  way  to  search  for 
some  new  home  away  toward  the  setting  sun. 

Mountain  Charlie,  the  cowboy  who  accompanied 
Oscar  to  the  Indian  camp,  had  simply  stopped  at  the 
ranch-house  for  the  night,  intending  to  join  the  rest 
upon  the  range  the  following  day.  He  was  an  im- 
portant figure  among  them,  and  had  won  his  name  by 
several  exploits  among  the  Indians  in  the  mountains. 
His  position  was  that  of  a  sort  of  coast  guard ;  not  so 
much  with  the  cattle,  through  the  summer,  as  a  free 
ranger  among  the  foot-hills,  keeping  watch  of  Indians 
in  the  neighborhood  of  the  cattle,  and  driving  back 
the  cows  if  any  were  found  wandering  too  near  to  the 
mountains. 

Very  few  cowboys  ever  hear  their  last  names  spoken 
by  their  associates.  If  the  first  name  is  not  enough 


AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE.  85 

to  identify  them,  some  characteristic  is  added,  or  the 
brand  of  the  ranch  with  which  they  are  connected,  or 
some  deed  which  has  made  them  famous.  The  brand 
of  the  Peterson  ranch  was  a  half  circle  and  a  dash  — 
"  ( —  ;  "  and  if  there  had  been  no  better  name  for  him 
Oscar's  friend  would  have  been  known  as  "  Half -circle- 
dash  Charlie."  It  was  a  much  more  honorable  dis- 
tinction which  he  had  won,  however,  and  he  was  justly 
proud  of  the  name  of  "  Mountain  Charlie." 

He  was  awake  before  Oscar  had  lifted  the  latch,  and 
as  the  moonlight  streamed  through  the  open  door  Oscar 
saw  him  leaning  on  his  elbow,  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk, 
with  his  six-shooter  in  his  hand. 

"  It's  nobody  very  fierce,  Charlie,"  he  saidt  softly, 
that  he  might  not  disturb  any  others  who  were  sleep- 
ing. "  You  can  put  up  your  shooting-irons  and  go  to 
sleep  again.  Panza  and  I  have  started  out  on  another 
trip.  I'm  on  foot  this  time,  and  we've  run  in  to  spend 
the  night  with  you.  Tell  me  where  I'll  find  an  empty 
bunk,  and  I'll  go  into  particulars  in  the  morning." 

The  cowboy  had  the  good  sense  to  accept  the  situa- 
tion without  making  an  ado.  In  simple  frontier 
fashion  he  asked,  "  Had  your  grub  ?  "  and  receiving 
an  affirmative  reply  added  :  "  Bunks  are  all  empty  on 
that  side.  Pick  the  best."  Then  he  laid  down  his 
six-shooter,  and  threw  himself  back  upon  his  pillow 
with  a  sigh,  as  though  he  were  already  half-asleep 
again. 


86  AT   THE   RANCH-HOUSE. 

Oscar  did  not  dream  of  the  keen  eyes  that  were  fixed 
upon  him  from  the  shadows  of  Charlie's  bunk  as  he 
laid  down  his  rifle,  unstrapped  his  pack  and  cartridge 
belt,  took  off  his  boots  and  trousers  and  lay  down  in 
the  bunk. 

With  a  contented  grunt  Panza  stretched  herself 
upon  the  floor  beside  the  bunk  and  was  asleep  in  a 
moment.  Oscar  watched  her  with  envious  eyes,  for  it 
seemed  to  him  that  after  all  he  had  passed  through  the 
last  straw  would  surely  break  the  camel's  back,  and 
that  he  could  not  bear  the  burden  that  was  being  piled 
upon  him.  He  did  not  believe  that  he  could  possibly 
fall  asleep,  but  he  was  mistaken.  There  was  many  a 
straw  yet  to  be  laid  upon  his  back  without  breaking  it. 
No  one  ever  knows  how  much  he  can  bear  till  he  is 
tested,  and  there  is  a  philosophy  that  if  one  is  true  to 
himself  and  his  convictions  there  is  no  burden  so  heavy 
that  he  really  cannot  bear  it. 

Oscar  Peterson  had  a  brave  heart,  a  healthy  body 
that  was  thoroughly  tired,  and  a  clear  conscience,  and 
even  while  he  was  envying  Panza  he  fell  asleep  himself, 
in  spite  of  the  changes  which  had  taken  place :  taking 
the  happy  student,  looking  forward  to  a  year's  vacation 
with  his  father  upon  one  of  the  richest  and  best  fron- 
tier estates  of  America,  and  making  a  lonely  orphan, 
lying  on  a  blanket,  in  a  borrowed  bunk,  without  a 
possession  in  the  world  except  his  pack,  his  rifle  and 
his  dog. 


AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE.  87 

Charlie  lay  awake  much  longer,  looking  steadily 
across  the  cabin  toward  Oscar's  bunk. 

"  Something's  going  all-fired  wrong  with  him,"  he 
muttered.  "  He's  too  good  a  fellow  to  be  bucked  be- 
fore he  gets  his  eye  teeth  cut.  Whatever  the  muss  is 
I  don't  believe  he's  having  fair  play.  He's  got  the 
grit  to  fight  and  win,  whatever 's  against  him,  and  I 
wish  I  could  lend  a  hand  to  give  him  a  fair  show.  He 
wouldn't  take  help  from  anybody  if  he  knew  it,  but  I 
wonder  if  I  can't  work  it  some  way  so's  he'll  have  to 
let  me." 

While  he  was  wondering  he,  too,  fell  asleep  again. 

Still  another  heart  was  beating  for  Oscar  that 
night. 

As  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  him,  and  it  was 
evident  that  he  proposed  to  remain  there  till  morning, 
at  least,  the  shadowy  form  behind  turned  back  again, 
the  bright  eyes  looked  toward  the  butte,  and  the  silent 
feet  flew  almost  as  fast  as  a  horse  could  run.  There 
was  no  rest  or  sleep  for  Wenononee  that  night.  All 
alone  she  had  conceived  an  idea  and  plotted  and 
planned  its  execution.  She  knew  just  what  was  be- 
fore her,  but  with  true  Indian  loyalty  she  determined 
to  accomplish  it,  and  she  did. 

Faster  and  faster  her  feet  flew,  for  the  task  was  long 
and  difficult,  and  daylight  was  none  too  far  away.  Up 
the  butte  she  went,  like  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  swiftly 
and  silently  gliding  over  the  meadow.  The  moon 


$8  AT   THE   RANCH-HOUSE. 

shone  full  upon  the  ragged  face  of  the  butte  that 
looked  down  over  the  village.  Every  rock  and  ledge 
and  cranny  was  visible.  It  was  much  shorter  than 
the  road  which  wound  down  the  gentle  slope  to  the 
south,  and  shorter  than  the  foot  path  cut  into  the  face 
of  the  ledge,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  Weno 
leaped  from  the  upper  rocks,  and  with  bound  after 
bound  darted  down  the  steep  declivity.  By  that  means 
it  was  only  a  moment  later  when  she  entered  the  little 
log  cabin. 

All  was  dark  there  now,  but  Weno  needed  no  light. 
Swiftly  and  silently  she  crossed  the  room,  climbed  to 
her  own  little  chamber  under  the  roof,  and  threw  off 
the  loose  dress  which  she  wore.  Out  of  a  characteris- 
tic pile  of  everything  in  one  corner  she  drew  an  Eng- 
lish hunting  jacket  and  put  it  on,  buttoning  it  down 
to  her  leather  trousers.  It  was  the  jacket  which 
Oscar  had  thrown  over  his  father,  in  the  yacht,  and 
left  there.  Weno  found  it  the  next  morning.  She 
was  too  much  of  an  Indian  to  stop  to  think  whether  it 
was  stealing  or  not  for  her  to  keep  it ;  but  no  Indian 
ever  took  anything  that  did  not  belong  to  him  with 
less  thought  of  personal  profit.  She  had  never  put  it 
on  before.  She  had  never  thought  of  using  it  in  any 
way ;  but  she  valued  the  treasure  more  than  all  that 
she  possessed  —  even  the  bear  skin  and  the  antlers. 

As  she  drew  on  the  jacket  she  whispered :  "  Heap 
good  horse.  He  know." 


AT   THE   RANCH-HOUSE.  89 

Then  she  unbraided  her  hair,  which  she  had  plaited 
for  the  night  when  Oscar  came  to  the  cabin  early  in 
the  evening,  and  tied  it  in  a  knot  at  the  top  of  her 
head.  She  took  off  her  leggings  and  moccasins  and 
rolled  them  into  a  bundle  with  her  dress  and  a  bright 
Indian  blanket,  and  with  it  hurried  out  of  the  cabin 
again  as  complete  an  Indian  boy  as  ever  ran  barefoot 
over  the  mountain  trails.  She  was  exhausted  and 
panting,  and  her  heart  was  throbbing  fiercely  as  she 
entered  the  cabin,  but  she  was  as  fresh  as  ever  when 
she  left  again  and  started  on  a  run  up  the  butte. 

She  did  not  go  near  the  house,  but  kept  well  under 
the  hill  till  she  was  opposite  the  stable.  Then  she 
threw  her  bundle  into  a  clump  of  shrubbery  and  at- 
tempted to  enter,  but  the  door  was  locked.  She  walked 
slowly  about  the  building  till  she  found  a  place  where 
she  could  climb  to  a  ventilating  window  in  the  peak, 
and  a  moment  later  was  pulling  herself  through  the 
narrow  opening.  Then  all  was  still  till  a  door  swung 
open  that  had  been  bolted  on  the  inside,  and  Weno 
stood  in  the  moonlight,  covered  with  dust  and  hay. 

For  a  moment  her  courage  seemed  almost  to  fail  her. 
She  looked  quickly  and  nervously  in  every  direction. 
She  took  a  step  forward,  drawing  the  door  after  her  as 
though  she  were  coming  out.  With  one  foot  over  the 
threshold  she  hesitated,  shook  herself,  stood  very 
straight  and,  with  a  low  laugh  which  made  her  white 
teeth  flash  and  sparkle  in  the  moonlight,  she  turned 


90  AT   THE   KANCH-HOUSE. 

about,  resolutely  pushed  the  door  open  wide,  and 
disappeared. 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  commotion  inside  which 
would,  at  least,  have  brought  Panza  to  the  spot  had 
she  been  upon  the  butte,  but  no  one  heard  it,  and  pres- 
ently Weno  appeared  leading  Sancho  who  came  with 
decided  protestations.  She  had  succeeded  in  getting 
on  the  bridle,  but  had  evidently  found  it  impossible  to 
put  on  either  the  saddle  or  blanket. 

Once  out  of  the  stable  he  made  less  noise,  but  it  be- 
came almost  impossible  for  her  to  manage  him.  More 
than  once  he  lifted  her  off  her  feet  as  she  clung  to  the 
bridle,  and  by  slow  degrees  guided  him  down  the  butte 
toward  the  west.  When  he  stopped,  positively  refus- 
ing to  go  farther,  she  patiently  waited,  patted  him  as 
he  rubbed  his  nose  over  the  hunting  jacket,  and  with 
the  same  low  laugh  whispered  :  "  Young  master's  coat. 
Weno  say  Sanch  heap  good  pony.  Heap  good  friend 
young  master.  Heap  know  young  master's  coat." 

At  last  the  foot  of  the  butte  was  gained  and  Weno 
prepared  for  the  last  struggle.  Many  a  wild  Indian 
pony  and  unruly  bronco  had  yielded  to  her.  She  was 
not  afraid  of  Sancho,  but  she  evidently  realized 
that  a  difficult  task  was  before  her.  She  took  off  the 
hunting  jacket  and  threw  it  on  the  ground,  very  gently 
sliding  her  hand  along  Sancho's  neck  till  she  fastened 
a  firm  grip  of  the  dusky  little  fingers  upon  his  mane 
just  over  the  shoulder.  For  a  moment  Sancho  seemed 


AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE. 


91 


to  have  forgotten  her.  He  was  pushing  the  coat  about 
with  his  nose,  as  though  hunting  for  the  master  that 
should  be  inside  of  it. 

Weno  watched  him  for  an  instant,  then  she  drew  a 
long  breath,  the  muscles  over  her  bare  arms  and 
shoulders  stood  out  and  quivered  in  the  moonlight,  and 
the  next  instant  she  was  sitting  on  Sancho's  back.  He 


WENO   AND    SANCHO. 


was  taken  completely  by  surprise,  but  had  not  the  least 
intention  of  allowing  the  acquaintance  to  go  any  farther. 
He  lunged,  reared,  kicked,  snorted  and  plunged  about. 
He  tried  to  bite  and  tried  to  roll.  He  looked  about 
for  some  tree  or  fence  against  which  he  could  scrape 
off  his  unwelcome  burden.  Doubtless  he  had  never 
learned  the  frontier  art  of  bucking,  for  that  was  the 
only  means  he  did  not  try  ;  but  when,  at  last,  he  was 


92  AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE. 

exhausted,  and  stopped  from  sheer  inability  to  do  any- 
thing more,  he  found  Wenononee  still  sitting  upon  his 
back,  holding  the  reins  firmly  in  her  hand. 

Now  it  was  her  turn  ;  and  the  moment  Sancho  paused 
she  curled  her  feet  under  him,  punching  his  sides  with 
her  bare,  heels.  If  Sancho  thought  himself  thoroughly 
exhausted  he  must  have  been  surprised  to  find  how 
much  go  there  was  left  in  him  after  all,  as,  with  a 
savage  grunt,  he  shut  his  eyes,  laid  back  his  ears,  and 
started  at  a  wild  run  down  the  prairie.  He  ran  as 
though  it  were  an  idea  entirely  his  own  and  not  at 
all  what  Weno  wanted  of  him.  With  leap  after  leap 
he  cleared  the  ground,  hardly  seeming  to  touch  it. 
By  degrees  Weno  worked  him  about  into  the  direction 
of  the  ranch-house,  but  she  did  not  try  to  check  him 
till  they  were  approaching  the  buildings.  Then,  just 
as  she  was  preparing  to  make  the  attempt  and  wonder- 
ing how  she  should  succeed,  something  happened  which 
entirely  relieved  her  of  the  necessity. 

The  trail  led  directly  to  the  cabin  door,  and  instinct- 
ively Sancho  had  been  following  it.  It  was  not  a 
part  of  Weno's  purpose  to  let  herself  be  known,  but 
she  began  to  realize  that  possibly  it  might  be  very 
hard  to  arrange  it  in  any  other  way,  when  suddenly,  as 
they  came  within  fifty  feet  of  the  cabin  door,  a  sharp 
bark  sounded  from  inside.  Sancho  stopped  short.  It 
threw  him  on  to  his  haunches  and  very  nearly  threw 
Weno  over  his  head.  With  his  ears  pricked  up  he 


WBNO  PAUSED,    TO  GATHBB  COURAOB. 


AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE.  95 

stood  still  and  listened.  A  moment  later  the  bark 
was  repeated,  though  not  so  loud,  and  with  a  low,  pecu- 
liar whinny  Sancho  started  toward  the  door;  but 
Wenononee  was  no  longer  upon  his  back.  As  fast  as 
her  Indian  feet  could  carry  her  she  was  running  along 
the  trail  by  which  she  had  just  come.  As  she  ran  she 
said  to  herself  :  "  Dat  heap  good  pony.  Know  heap. 
Heap  good  dog." 

Thus  for  the  fourth  time  that  night  she  followed  the 
trail  between  the  ranch-house  and  the  village.  It  was 
a  long  distance,  and  though  she  hurried  till  her  bare 
feet  were  cut  and  bruised,  it  was  almost  sunrise  when 
she  reached  the  butte  and  hid  behind  the  clump  of 
shrubbery  near  the  stable  where  she  had  left  her 
clothes. 

When  she  cam'e  out  again  she  was  once  more  the 
little  Indian  girl,  with  leggings  and  moccasins,  loose 
dress  and  flowing  hair,  wrapped  in  her  bright-colored 
blanket. 

This  time  she  walked  straight  to  the  great  house  on 
the  summit  of  the  butte,  but  she  walked  slowly,  for  she 
was  very  tired  and  much  more  frightened  than  she  was 
when  leading  Sancho. 

At  the  steps  she  paused  for  a  moment,  just  where 
Oscar  stood  during  his  last  struggle  the  night  before, 
waiting  to  gather  courage. 

It  is  very  probable  that  her  task  was  harder  for  her 
than  his  had  been  for  him,  but  she  faced  it  bravely  a 


96  AT   THE    RANCH-HOUSE. 

moment   later,  walking   resolutely  up   the   steps  and 
entering  the  hall. 

When  she  appeared  again  there  was  a  peculiar  light 
in  her  eyes  and  a  proud  smile  on  her  lips.  She  was 
satisfied  with  what  she  had  accomplished.  She  walked 
slowly  down  the  butte  by  the  longest  way,  that  she 
might  recover  the  hunting  jacket,  and  then  turned 
homeward,  singing  all  the  way ;  for  her  work  was 
done. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS. 

OSCAR  was  aroused  from  a  deep  sleep  by  the  bark 
which  Wenononee  heard.  He  knew  that  it  was  Panza, 
but  it  mingled  with  his  dreams  and  he  was  still  only 
half-awake  when  he  heard  the  second  bark  and  answer- 
ing neigh.  He  began  to  wonder  where  he  was,  and  if 
he  were  awake  or  asleep,  and  how  he  came  to  be  in 
that  curious  little  bunk.  Then  he  remembered  his 
present  position,  and  shut  his  eyes  again,  forgetting 
what  had  roused  him,  trying  to  go  to  sleep  once  more, 
if  only  for  a  little  while  longer  to  forget  his  troubles. 

Charlie  had  been  roused  almost  as  quickly  as  Panza. 
He  heard  the  approaching  hoofs  and  lay  in  his  bunk 
listening  to  know  where  they  were  going.  He  heard 
them  come  directly  to  the  door  and  stop  there,  and 
wondered  why  no  one  entered.  He  watched  Panza 
sniffing  and  whining  at  the  door.  He  heard  a  horse 
pawing  the  ground  outside,  and  very  slowly  rolled  out 
of 'his  bunk  and  went  to  the  door  to  investigate. 

97 


98  BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS. 

Oscar,  who  had  been  gradually  coming  to  conscious- 
ness, opened  his  eyes  again  as  Charlie  opened  the  door. 
In  the  gray  light  of  early  morning  he  saw  Panza  dash 
out  before  the  door  was  half -open.  He  heard  Charlie 
mutter  some  exclamation  of  surprise.  Then  he  heard 
a  whinny  which  brought  him  to  his  feet  in  an  instant, 
and  before  he  knew  it  he  was  standing  at  the  door  with 
his  hand  on  Sancho's  neck. 

"  For  mercy's  sake  !  How  did  you  come  here  ?  " 
he  asked  in  astonishment. 

"  He's  had  a  tight  lick  of  it,  however  he  came," 
Charlie  observed.  "  Look  at  him  pant.  He's  beauti- 
fully blown,  and  he's  just  painted  with  lather." 

"  Do  you  suppose  he  broke  away  and  followed  me, 
like  a  dog  ?  "  Oscar  asked,  ready  to  believe  Sancho 
capable  of  anything. 

"  Where  did  you  leave  him  ?  "  Charlie  inquired. 

"  Safe  in  the  stable,  and  locked  in  at  that." 

"With  the  bridle  on?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

Charlie  pointed  to  the  bridle. 

"I'll  tell  you  what,  some  one  must  have  tried  to 
saddle  him  and  he  got  away,"  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  A 
stranger  would  find  it  pretty  tough  work  to  saddle 
him,  and  harder  still  to  ride  him." 

"  Somebody  has  been  riding  him  to-night,"  Charlie 
replied,  running  his  hand  along  Sancho's  back.  "  And 
what's  more,  it  was  an  Indian." 


BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS.  99 

"  An  Indian  !  "  Oscar  turned  in  still  greater  aston- 
ishment to  examine  the  mark  on  Sancho's  back  where 
the  moist  hair  had  been  matted  down.  "Some  Indian 
must  have  tried  to  steal  him." 

"Well,  that  don't  account  for  his  coming  here," 
Charlie  said,  shaking  his  head.  "And  no  Indian 
would  have  brought  a  stolen  horse  near  this  ranch- 
house  while  Mountain  Charlie  was  about,  you  can 
bet,"  he  added,  with  true  frontier  pride.  "  But  we'd 
better  run  him  into  the  stable  to  dry  off  or  he'll  catch 
cold  and  die  of  pneumonia  while  we're  settling  how  he 
came  here.  That  would  be  a  big  lump  out  of  your 
pocket  besides  all  you  think  of  him  yourself." 

"  He  doesn't  belong  to  me  any  longer.  I  sold  him, 
last  night,"  Oscar  replied,  sadly ;  and  as  they  walked 
toward  the  stable  he  added,  "as  soon  as  we've  had 
breakfast,  Charlie,  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

Oscar  had  reached  a  point  where  he  must  tell  some 
one.  The  burden  was  fast  becoming  heavier  than  he 
could  bear  alone.  His  father  had  been  very  fond  of 
Mountain  Charlie,  and  he  had  found  him  a  cool-headed, 
warm-hearted  fellow.  He  was  the  most  of  a  friend 
he  had  in  Manitoba,  and  without  waiting  to  consider 
the  matter  he  resolved  to  lay  the  whole  story  before 
him,  from  the  beginning. 

The  regulation  ranch-house  breakfast  was  quickly 
prepared  and  thoroughly  palatable,  if  one  had  a  good 
appetite  and  digestion,  consisting  of  venison  fried  with 


100  BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS. 

bacon,  oatmeal  pancakes  and  coffee.  The  sun  was 
shining  when  they  went  out  of  the  ranch-house  again. 
Charlie  mounted  the  upper  rail  of  the  stable  fence. 
Oscar  threw  himself  upon  a  log  lying  on  the  ground, 
and  with  one  arm  twisted  about  a  rail  of  the  fence  sat 
looking  up  at  his  cowboy  friend  and  told  his  story,  be- 
ginning with  the  day  in  the  woods  with  his  father. 

Mountain  Charlie  did  not  speak  a  word  till  he  had 
come  to  the  end,  in  the  finding  of  Sancho  at  the  ranch- 
house  door.  Then  he  swung  his  foot  deliberately  over 
the  rail,  looked  at  his  boot  for  a  moment  in  silence 
and  finally  remarked :  "  Well,  I  call  that  a  clean 
stampede.  It's  a  wholesale  washout  if  there  ever  was 
one." 

Oscar  laughed,  for  to  tell  the  truth  he  felt  much 
better  now  that  he  had  shared  his  burden  with  some 
one.  It  did  not  seem  half  so  serious  and  heavy  with 
some  one  holding  one  end  of  it,  and  he  replied,  "  I  have 
been  pretty  well  stampeded,  you're  right ;  and  I  feel 
pretty  well  washed  out,  though  maybe  that  part  of  it 
will  do  me  no  great  harm  in  the  end  ;  but  what  there 
is  left  of  me  is  going  ahead  to  put  the  fight  through, 
hit  or  miss,  neck  or  nothing,  till  I  find  that  man  and 
have  him  punished." 

"  You  say  he  had  charge  of  a  mine  at  the  Black 
Hills  and  another  at  Leadville  ?  "  Charlie  asked. 

"  He  had  one  of  his  own  at  the  Black  Hills,  and  the 
one  of  my  father's  which  he  was  developing  was  at 


BRIGHTER    PROSPECTS.  101 

Leadville.     So  I  am  going  to  the  Black  Hills  on  the 
way,  and  if  he  is  not  there  I  am  going  to  Leadville." 

"  Are  you  expecting  to  get  possession  of  a  big 
mine  ?  "  Charlie  inquired. 

"  No ;  nor  a  small  one  either,"  Oscar  replied,  de- 
cidedly. "In  the  first  place,  I  do  not  care  anything 
about  it,  and  in  the  second  place,  if  that  is  the  man 
who  shot  my  father  he  did  it  to  obtain  possession  of 
the  mine,  and  he  certainly  would  not  have  left  it  open 
for  me  to  get  it  back." 

"  It's  about  all  a  fellow's  life  is  worth  to  make  that 
trip  'twixt  here  and  Leadville,  running  the  risk  of 
Indians  alone,  not  to  speak  of  an  occasional  drift  of 
pale  faces  that's  worse  to  strike  than  all  the  red  skins 
in  a  bunch,"  Charlie  said. 

"  Well,  it's  my  duty,  and  that's  all  there  is  to  it," 
Oscar  replied,  leaning  back  and  supporting  himself  by 
the  rail  ;  "and  I'd  rather  die  doing  my  duty  than  live 
shirking  it." 

"A  fellow's  scalp  is  a  mighty  precious  piece  of 
furniture,"  Charlie  remarked,  suggestively  scratching 
his  head. 

"  Well,  I  don't  mean  to  lose  mine,  by  a  large 
majority,  if  I  can  help  it ;  but  wouldn't  you  rather 
lose  it  than  keep  it  knowing  that  it  covered  up  a 
coward  who  didn't  dare  to  do  his  duty  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  Put  it  that  way  and  of  course  I  would.  Yes. 
But  I'd  a  big  sight  rather  walk  a  long  way  round  to 


102  BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS. 

do  it  than  ride  the  best  horse  in  the  country  cross  lots 
within  gunshot  of  a  bunch  of  Indians,  if  they  meant 
business,"  Charlie  insisted. 

Oscar  looked  up  in  surprise  as  he  exclaimed,  "  Why, 
I  have  heard  my  father  say  that  you  were  worth  any 
five  men  in  Manitoba  for  fighting  Indians." 

"  Your  father  always  thought  better  of  any  one  than 
he  deserved,"  Charlie  replied  earnestly.  "  The  fact  is, 
a  fellow  will  do  lots  of  things  when  he's  once  got  his 
foot  in  it  that  he  wouldn't  start  out  to  do  for  the  fun 
of  it.  Your  father  was  always  talking  of  a  time  when 
I  happened  on  some  twenty  Indians  running  a  bunch 
of  cows  up  into  the  mountains.  I  saw  the  cows  first, 
and  never  mistrusted  that  there  were  Indians  behind 
them.  That  was  what  I  was  there  for,  and  I  went  for 
them.  Of  course  I  was  alone,  and  if  I  had  known 
of  the  Indians  at  the  start  I'd  have  thought  twice,  at 
any  rate  ;  but  when  I  saw  'um  it  was  too  late.  Well, 
I  brought  the  cows  back,  every  head  of  'um,  though 
the  skunks  fought  me  clean  to  the  open.  My  horse 
was  hit  once,  and  one  ball  lodged  in  the  saddle  and 
one  went  through  that  arm.  I  got  my  Winchester 
hot  before  they  hit  me,  though,  and  after  that  I  hauled 
out  my  six-shooters,  one  after  the  other,  and  let  out 
what  there  was  in  them.  When  I  came  out  of  the 
woods  there  were  but  five  Indians  left  to  go  back 
and  pick  up  the  rest.  Such  things  are  pretty  enough 
to  talk  about  afterward,  and  your  father  made  too  much 


BRIGHTER    PROSPECTS.  103 

of  it.  I  tell  you  I  would  walk  ten  miles  and  sleep 
in  a  snowdrift,  rather  than  hear  an  Indian  whoop." 

"  Well,  I've  got  to  go,  Indians  or  no  Indians,"  Oscar 
replied.  "  And  as  that's  all  there  is  about  it  I  may 
as  well  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  Charlie  exclaimed,  throw- 
ing his  hat  on  the  ground  and  leaning  back  against 
the  post,  "  I'd  never  have  punched  cows  up  in  this 
frozen-to-death  country  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  liking 
I  took  to  your  father.  I  thought  I'd  hang  on  and  do 
the  best  I  could  for  you,  too,  but  if  that  game's  up 
I'm  going  to  make  tracks  for  the  States  again.  I'd  a 
heap  rather  have  company  than  go  alone,  and  if  you'll 
let  me  I'll  go  along  with  you  till  —  well,  till  I  strike  a 
job,  somewhere.  I  don't  believe  it's  straight  business, 
this  taking  the  property  away  from  you.  There's  a 
clean  fraud  about  it,  I'll  bet  my  best  bronco;  but  ex- 
cept for  horse-thieves  and  smugglers  and  sich,  there's 
no  great  surplus  of  law  in  these  parts.  Possession  is 
nine  points  of  what  there  is,  and  whoever  the  other  fel- 
low may  be  he  surely  has  possession.  I'd  like  to  skin 
him,  and  maybe  we'll  have  a  chance  some  day.  I'm 
thinking  that  when  you've  found  the  man  you're  after 
you'll  find  that  you've  killed  two  birds  with  one  stone. 
Never  mind.  What  do  you  say :  do  you  think  that 
poor  company's  better  than  none  ?  " 

"  Your  company  would  be  better  than  the  best  I 
know  of,"  Oscar  exclaimed. 


104 


BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS. 


THE   INDIAN   MESSENGER. 


At  that  moment  Panza  gave  her  low,  warning  growl. 
They  both  started,  listened  for  an  instant,  and  then 
looked  down  the  trail  along  which  they  soon  saw  a 
rider  approaching. 

"  He's  a  red  skin.  How  I  hate  the  sight  of  'um  !  " 
Charlie  muttered, 


BRIGHTER   PROSPECTS.  105 

He  was  headed  for  the  ranch-house,  and  as  he  came 
nearer  Oscar  asked :  "  Do  you  think  he  can  be  the  fel- 
low who  brought  Sancho  here  ?  Maybe  he  was  riding 
and  got  thrown,  and  has  followed  him." 

"  Not  by  a  large  majority,"  Charlie  replied,  decidedly. 
"  In  the  first  place,  he  wouldn't  dare  follow  a  stolen 
horse  to  this  ranch  even  if  he  knew  he  was  here ;  and 
in  the  second  place,  the  coon  that  rode  your  horse  last 
night  was  liftle.  Don't  you  remember  where  the  heel- 
marks  were?  He  wasn't  so  tall  as  you  into  five  or  six 
inches,  while  this  fellow  is  'most  a  head  taller.  O, 
no !  He  is  not  the  one." 

"  I  know  who  he  is  !  "  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  He's  the 
Indian'  that  the  fellow  had  at  the  house  with  him  last 
night." 

He  turned  directly  toward  them,  now,  holding  a 
letter  in  his  hand.  A  few  paces  off  he  halted,  grunt- 
ing a  salute,  muttering,  "  How,"  and  extending  a 
letter  toward  Oscar,  who  rose  from  the  log  and 
received  it. 

He  began  to  ask  the  Indian  a  question  about  Sancho, 
but  the  moment  the  letter  left  his  fingers  the  fellow 
whirled  his  horse  and  rode  away  as  though  some  one 
had  fired  at  him. 

"  That's  a  rather  queer  performance,"  Oscar  re- 
marked, breaking  the  seal.  Then  he  began  to  smile, 
as  he  read,  and  at  last  laughed  outright.  When  he 
had  finished  he  read  the  letter  aloud  : 


106  BRIGHTER    PROSPECTS. 

MR.  PETERSON. 

Respected  Sir :  —  Some  one  stole  your  hoss  last  night.  I  might 
uv  thought  you  left  the  barn  door  open  only  I  know  who  stole 
him  and  vvhar  he  is  now.  Don't  suspicion  that  I  think  you  had 
a  hand  in  it  for  I  don't.  No  more  I  don't  want  him  back  and 
won't  take  him.  Though  he's  a  dretful  likely  piece  of  hoss  flesh 
and  I  wish  you  joy  of  him.  I  shall  send  his  saddle  and  the  rest 
of  his  outfit  to  whar  you  are  now  by  the  supply  wagon  going 
down  from  the  store  this  arternoon,  cause  I  hear  they  wusn't 
stole  with  the  hoss.  I  don't  want  none  of  'um.  It's  all  right 
about  the  Injun  squaws.  I  didn't  understand  when  I  told  'um 
to  git.  They  can  hang  onter  the  cabin  till  the  sky  falls.  I 
told  'um  so  this  morning.  Whatever  it  is  you've  got  to  do  away 
from  here  I  wisht  you'd  hurry  up  and  get  back,  'cause  if  thar's 
a  mistake  'bout  this  business  I  want  to  know  it.  I  don't  want 
to  wrong  no  kid  like  you.  I  won't  change  nothing  but  try  to 
keep  things  going  as  they  is,  best  I  can,  till  you  get  back.  You're 
a  trump,  you  are,  and  I  wisht  I  hadn't  begun  with  you  the  way  I 
did.  I  was  drunk  last  night  and  I  apologise.  If  you  will  excuse 
me  sir  and  allow  me  to  remain, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

SIMON  BROWN. 

"  Now  what  does  that  mean  ?  "  Oscar  asked,  as  he 
finished  reading  and  sat  down  again  on  the  log. 

"  It  means  that  the  coon  has  got  some  mighty  good 
cows  in  his  corral  yet,  and  that  he's  likely  to  be  as 
good  a  friend  of  yours  as  he  knows  how,"  Charlie  re- 
plied. "  If  you  should  find  out  that  there  was  a  mis- 
take or  a  fraud,  and  that  you  have  rights  there,  he'll 
take  your  side  against  the  other  fellow,  I'll  bet.  And 
he  and  not  the  other  fellow  has  possession,  so  you 
may  have  the  nine  points  of  the  law  on  your  side,  after 


BRIGHTER    PROSPECTS.  107 

all.     Why  don't  you  go  back  and  talk  it  over  with 
him  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  as  I  really  care  to  just  now,"  Oscar 
remarked  as  he  folded  the  letter.  "  This  other  work 
is  much  more  important,  and  now  that  I  have  Sancho 
a<jain  I  want  to  start  at  once." 

o 

"  Perhaps  you're  right  about  not  seeing  him.  He'll 
keep  just  as  well  without.  But  you  can't  start  with- 
out your  saddle,  and  Sancho  isn't  fit,  either,  after  last 
night.  We  need  some  grub,  too,  to  take  with  us. 
Suppose  we  go  out  shooting  this  morning,  and  start 
fresh  at  daylight  to-morrow  ?  " 

Oscar  readily  consented  ;  and  as  no  time  was  to  be 
lost  they  started  at  once  for  the  foot-hills  where,  for 
the  most  exciting  sport  and  the  best  game,  they  should 
have  been  waiting  as  the  sun  came  up. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE. 

"THE  best  sport  is  to  get  out  before  daylight  and 
wing  the  game  in  its  first  flight  up  the  lakes,"  Charlie 
remarked  as  they  trudged  rapidly  through  the  outskirts 
of  the  forest.  He  had  hunted  and  fished  and  fought 
and  ranged  in  those  hills  and  forests  too  much  not  to 
know  where  game  was  to  be  found  at  any  hour  of  the 
day,  however.  "  There'll  be  brant  up  in  that  valley, 
and  duck  and  plover  in  a  line  of  little  lakes  running- 
down  that  long  gorge  to  the  left.  That's  the  spot  for 
us  to  strike,  I  reckon,  for  we're  liable  to  hit  a  flock  of 
geese  coming  down  the  gorge.  From  ten  to  twelve, 
any  day,  you'll  near  the  old  honkers  away  at  the  ranch- 
house.  Crane  are  everywhere.  We  may  run  across  a 
hundred  of  them ;  but  you  can't  depend  upon  crane 
turning  up  where  you  expect  them,  later  than  an  hour 
after  sunrise,  and  again  about  sundown." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  as  much  as  you  do,"  Oscar  ex- 
claimed enthusiastically. 

108 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE.  109 

"  If  I  was  in  Oxford  and  wanted  some  dinner  I 
reckon  I  should  have  to  depend  on  you  to  show  me 
the  way ;  and  you'd  be  ashamed  of  yourself  if  you 
didn't  know,"  Charlie  remarked. 

"  I  could  take  you  to  a  restaurant  or  a  hotel,  of 
course,"  Oscar  replied. 

"  Weil,  this  is  our  hotel,  restaurant,  meat  market, 
produce  exchange  and  everything  else,"  Charlie  said. 

"  But  the  stuff  isn't  always  hanging  upon  precisely 
the  same  pegs  and  down  precisely  the  same  streets,  as 
it  is  in  Oxford,"  Oscar  argued. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  Charlie  replied.  "  It's  only  in  a  coun- 
try that  is  settled  up  and  hunted  to  death,  where  the 
game  is  born  frightened,  that  you  have  to  go  prowling 
about  to  find  it.  Any  man  who  knew  ducks  and  deer 
in  any  part  of  the  world  where  they  are  let  alone,  could 
find  them  here  as  easily  as  you  could  find  a  meat  mar- 
ket in  a  strange  city.  They're  always  on  the  same 
kind  of  streets,  and  they  stay  at  the  same  stands  — 
hanging  themselves  upon  the  very  same  pegs,  so  to 
speak,  year  after  year,  unless  they  get  so  thoroughly 
frightened  that  they  absolutely  have  to  hunt  up  a  new 
shop." 

Charlie  stopped  short  and  looked  away  to  the  north- 
west, up  the  long  and  narrow  reach  between  the  hills. 

"Get  behind  a  bush!  Be  quick!"  he  exclaimed, 
setting  the  example,  which  Oscar  followed,  diving  be- 
hind the  nearest  clump  of  shrubbery.  "  Those  are 


110  WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND    RIFLE. 

crane,  and  they're  headed  to  go  straight  over  us  if  they 
don't  change  their  minds.  Ay,  they're  coming.  We're 
in  luck.  Crane  steaks  are  fine  !  Crane  fly  slowly, 
but  they  get  there  in  time,  and  they  are  flying  low. 
Hope  they  don't  light.  No ;  they're  going  for  the 
wheat  back  of  the  ranch." 

Oscar  heard  these  low,  half-whispered  sentences 
coming  from  Charlie's  hiding-place,  while  he  almost 
held  his  breath  and  quivered  with  excitement  as, 
through  the  branches,  he  watched  the  huge  crane  com- 
ing nearer  and  nearer,  their  long  legs  dangling  behind 
them  like  streamers.  His  cheeks  glowed  as  he  lifted 
to  his  shoulder  the  shot-gun  he  had  brought  from  the 
ranch-house.  . 

On  they  came.  They  were  so  near  now  that  he 
could  distinguish  their  feathers  and  see  the  peculiar 
undulations  of  their  heads  and  necks  stretching  out 
almost  as  far  in  front  of  them  as  their  long  legs  trailed 
behind. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  "  Charlie  whispered. 

"  All  ready,"  Oscar  replied,  running  his  eye  along 
his  gun  with  the  inevitable  nervousness  of  the  real 
sportsman. 

"  Take  the  leaders.  I'll  wait  till  they  turn,  and  try 
then,"  Charlie  said. 

Oscar  waited  an  instant,  to  bring  the  flock  as  near 
as  possible  between  himself  and  Charlie.  They  were 
great,  gaunt,  ungainly  creatures,  and  there  was  some- 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND   RIFLE.  HI 

thing  almost  frightful  in  the  flopping  of  their  huge 
wings.  It  was  a  sensation  which  Oscar  had  never  felt 
before,  and  at  the  very  instant  when  he  was  prepared 
to  fire  his  strengtli  almost  deserted  him.  Every  hunter 
can  easily  appreciate  it,  but  Oscar  had  not  been  a 
hunter  long  enough  to  know  what  it  meant.  Cha- 
grined, he  made  a  sudden  effort  to  pull  himself  to- 
gether, and  fired. 

The  great  creature  instantly  doubled  over  his  sight, 
and  before  it  was  clear  the  entire  flock  was  so  demoral- 
ized that  at  the  instant  it  would  have  been  impossible 
to  single  out  any  one  of  them. 

If  Oscar  had  been  a  little  better  drilled  and  experi- 
enced in  the  higher  art  of  hunting  he  might  have 

o  o  o 

waited  for  them  to  straighten  themselves  out,  that  he 
might  know  where  he  was  shooting,  but  he  was  quite 
too  nervous  and  excited  to  think  of  higher  art  in  any- 
thing, and  gave  the  full  benefit  of  the  second  barrel  at 
the  mass  of  flopping  wings  and  trailing  legs  and  long 
necks  and  open  beaks,  not  over  forty  yards  away. 

Another  huge  crane  came  flopping  to  the  ground, 
however,  and  at  the  double  report  of  Charlie's  gun,  a 
second  later,  two  more  fell. 

"Pretty  good  toll  from  that  bunch,"  Charlie  re- 
marked as  the  rest  flew  away,  and  he  began  deliberately 
to  reload. 

Oscar  was  too  excited  for  that  regulation  precaution, 
and  dropping  his  gun  started  for  the  game.  The  first 


112  WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND   RIFLE. 

crane  fell  near  their  hiding-place,  and  was  stone  dead. 
Oscar  hurried  on  to  the  next.  He,  too,  seemed  dead, 
at  least,  and  Oscar  stooped  down  to  pick  him  up  and 
throw  him  beside  the  first,  when,  to  his  astonishment, 
with  a  furious  flutter,  the  huge  creature  sprang  to  his 
feet,  uttering  a  shrill  hissing  cry,  beating  the  air 
fiercely  with  his  wings,  while  the  feathers  011  his  neck 
and  back  were  savagely  ruffled  for  a  fight. 

For  a  moment  the  two  stood  looking  at  each  other, 
wondering  what  it  was  best  to  do  next.  Oscar  was 
afraid  the  bird  was  about  to  rise,  and  made  a  grab  for 
his  neck.  Quick  as  a  flash,  the  bird  dodged  and  re- 
turned the  attack  by  fastening  its  sharp  beak  in 
Oscar's  hand.  Then  it  struck  for  his  face,  and  Oscar 
swung  up  his  arm  just  in  time  to  save  himself. 

The  battle  once  begun,  the  crane  did  not  propose  to 
drop  the  matter,  but  with  wings  and  feet  and  beak 
came  at  Oscar  in  a  most  scientific  way,  that  did  not 
give  him  a  chance  to  do  anything  but  defend  himself.- 
It  was  all  the  action  of  an  instant,  but  as  desperate  as 
it  was  sudden ;  too  quick  even  for  Charlie  to  come  to 
the  rescire.  Oscar  thought  of  his  gun  lying  on  the 
ground  twenty  feet  behind  him.  He  turned  to  run 
for  it,  as  he  could  at  least  strike  with  the  stock  from  a 
safe  distance,  when,  with  a  triumphant  hiss,  the  crane 
started  after  him,  jabbing  him  in  the  back  of  the  neck. 

At  that  moment  Charlie  came  from  his  hiding- 
place,  with  his  gun  on  his  shoulder,  and  when  the 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE. 


113 


crane  saw  him  it  left  the  retreating  foe  and  made  for 
the  cowboy.  When  he  could  safely  fire,  the  crane  fell 
dead,  and  Charlie  rolled  over  and  over  on  the  ground, 
convulsed  with  laughter. 

Oscar  did  not  much  fancy  the  part  he  had  played, 
but  he  could  not  help  joining  m  the  laugh,  as  he  real- 


HE   TURNED   TO    RUN. 


ized  how  supremely  ridiculous  he  must  have  appeared 
running  away  from  a  bird  he  had  shot. 

"  It  was  the  funniest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  all 
my  life,"  Charlie  gasped,  and  began  to  laugh  again. 
"  You  looked  so  astonished  when  he  jumped  up.  And 


114  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND   RIFLE. 

the  way  he  hustled  you  !  Why,  he  didn't  give  you  a 
chance  to  lift  a  finger  on  your  own  account.  Then 
when  you  turned,  and  he  thought  he'd  scored  a  point, 
and  started  after  you  with  a  crow,  that  just  beat 
everything." 

"  Well,  it  was  a  pretty  poor  beginning,  any  way," 
Oscar  observed,  as  he  lifted  the  dead  bird.  "  I'm 
afraid  I  should  make  poor  work  with  Indians,  at 
that  rate." 

"  Now  don't  be  ashamed  of  your  antagonist," 
Charlie  exclaimed.  "  A  wounded  crane  is  no  mean 
thing  to  handle.  If  I  had  been  in  your  place  I  should 
simply  have  turned  and  run  at  the  start.  A  crane 
killed  an  Indian  up  here  last  year.  They  always 
strike  for  the  eyes  if  they  can,  like  the  heron  ;  and  this 
fellow  sent  his  beak  clean  through  into  the  Indian's 
brain.  I  didn't  laugh  when  you  were  facing  him, 
now,  I  tell  you.  But  when  you  started  off,  and  he 
gave  that  crow,  and  put  after  you  "  —  Charlie  leaned 
back  again  and  laughed.  "  Well,  come  on  !  Let's 
skin  'um  and  clean  'um,  and  cut  off  their  heads  and 
wings  and  legs,  or  we  shall  have  more  than  we  can 
carry  before  we  get  through." 

"I  wish  they  had  not  taken  my  dog  out  on  the 
range  with  them,"  he  added,  a  little  later,  as  they 
approached  one  of  the  almost  innumerable  little  marshy 
lakes  that  lie  hidden  among  the  mountains  of  Mani- 
toba. "  He's  a  little  fellow,  and  no  great  breed  any 


WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND    RIFLE.  115 

way,  but  he's  mighty  good  with  cattle,  and  a  terror  at 
hearing  things  in  the  night,  or  smelling  an  Indian. 
He  hates  'um  as  bad  as  I  do.  That's  why  they 
snaked  him  out  there  to  spend  the  summer  with  them 
in  the  bottom  ;  but  I  told  'um  I'd  come  for  him  and 
take  him  with  me  when  I  went  into  the  hills.  Now 
they  can  keep  him.  Yes ;  he's  a  beauty  for  offhand 
hunting,  I  tell  you.  There's  not  much  science  about 
him,  but  he  can  spot  game  just  the  same,  and  he  can 
just  everlastingly  pick  it  up  and  bring  it  in.  I've 
seen  him  fetch  a  goose  that  was  bigger  than  he  was  — 
a  regular  old  honker ;  and  one  that  was  only  wounded, 
at  that." 

"  I  never  trained  Panza  for  shooting,"  Oscar  said. 
"  She'd  be  too  big  to  be  any  good,  and  "  Before  he 

finished  speaking,  a  grouse  flushed  just  upon  his  right, 
and  the  last  word  was  lost  in  the  report  of  his  gun. 

"  Jiminy !  That  was  a  good  shot,"  Charlie  ex- 
claimed as  the  grouse  fell,  and  a  long  line  of  feathers 
floated  away  on  the  wind. 

Frightened  by  the  report,  several  more  rose,  but 
too  far  away,  and  there  being  no  dog  to  indicate  their 
whereabouts  in  advance,  they  succeeded  in  startling 
others  without  getting  another  shot.  It  was  no  great 
loss,  however,  for  every  muskrat  dome  along  the  marsh 
was  made  the  sunning-place  for  mallards,  widgeons 
and  sprig-tails  that  had  finished  their  breakfast,  and 
were  waiting  till  they  were  hungry  enough  for  lunch. 


116  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND   RIFLE. 

"  The  trouble  now  is  that  they  have  nothing  to  do, 
and  are  on  the  watch.  You  can't  wing  'um.  You've 
got  to  sneak  up  and  take  'um  dead  still.  If  you're 
only  out  to  stock  the  larder,  though,  that's  not  so 
bad.  I  have  filled  her  up  with  shot,  and  taken  as 
good  as  five  at  one  crack,  that  way.  Just  before  day- 
light is  the  time  for  real  sport,"  Charlie  continued,  as 
he  tied  the  game  they  had  bagged  so  far,  and,  slinging 
it  over  his  shoulder,  started  for  a  new  field.  "  When 
it's  cold  as  it  was  a  month  ago,  just  come  out  here  in 
the  dark,  and  stand  round  in  this  mush  till  your  blood 
is  like  cold  molasses,  waiting  for  light  enough  to  sight 
your  gun. 

"  Everything  is  on  the  wing,  then.  There's  no 
danger  of  freezing  to  death,  for  between  each  shiver 
you  hear  the  whir  and  the  rush  as  a  flock  of  ducks 
goes  sailing  over  your  head.  Sometimes  a  zipping 
wing  will  go  past  within  a  few  feet  of  your  ear,  and 
give  you  a  good  start ;  for  they  don't  begin  to  climb 
till  later  in  the  day.  You  can't  see  a  shadow  of 
'urn,  it's  so  dark,  just  before  day ;  but  you  know 
they're  there,  and  it  sets  your  heart  going.  Then  it 
lights  up  a  little  in  the  east,  and  you  can  see  them  plain 
against  it  as  they  come  steadily  sweeping  up  to  you ; 
but  by  the  time  they  get  here  you're  looking  against 
a  darker  sky,  and  you  can't  see  a  feather  of  'um,  and 
that  makes  you  mad.  Next  you  know,  you  can  pick 
out  your  birds  overhead,  and  down  they  come.  Then 


WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND   RIFLE.  117 

you  get  warm  quick  enough,  I  tell  you,  and  —  Hark  ! 
What's  that?" 

They  both  listened  intently,  and  from  far  down  the 
gap  they  heard  a  steady  honking  coming  up  the  line 
of  lakes. 

"Geese!  What  luck!"  Charlie  exclaimed.  "Stuff 
in  a  lot  of  heavy  shot,  and  let  'um  have  it  from  behind 
these  reeds." 

Every  moment  the  honking  became  louder. 

"  Geese  fly  fast,  you  know,"  Charlie  explained  in  a 
nervous  whisper.  "  You  take  the  leaders  again,  and 
I'll  follow.  Give  them  a  good  margin.  When  you're 
sighted,  follow  along  till  you  just  lose  sight  of  the 
beak.  Keep  your  gun  still  moving,  and  let  her  go." 

They  could  see  them,  now,  and  they  did  fly  fast ; 
but  most  of  the  flock  had  drifted  too  far  out  over  the 
lake  to  get  them  without  dogs.  There  were  only  three 
in  range.  It  was  a  moment  of  intense  excitement. 
Oscar  had  never  shot  at  a  goose  before.  He  tried  to 
follow  Charlie's  instructions,  but  his  first  shot  missed. 
It  brought  the  three  honkers  to  a  standstill,  however, 
and  while  they  were  turning  out  over  the  lake  he  fired 
again  and  brought  one  down.  Charlie  had  only  time 
for  one  shot  before  they  were  too  far  away  to  recover. 

"  Well,  two  out  of  three  is  pretty  fair  toll,"  Charlie 
remarked  as  they  dressed  and  skinned  their  game  ;  and 
before  noon  they  had  a  burden  quite  as  heavy  as  they 
could  carry  between  them. 


118  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE. 

As  they  were  slowly  making  their  way  back  to  the 
ranch-house,  Oscar  caught  sight  of  a  pair  of  antlers 
above  the  reeds  on  the  shore  of  a  little  lake  away  upon 
their  right. 

"  There's  plenty  of  those  fellows  around,  this  spring," 
Charlie  remarked.  "  But  these  shot-guns  would  only 
frighten  them,  and  we  couldn't  carry  home  a  pound 
more  than  we  have." 

"  Couldn't  we  come  back  for' them  with  the  horses  ?" 


S    THE   LAKE. 


Oscar  asked.     "  I  never  shot  a  deer,  and  I'd  like  to 
get  one  good  pop." 

"You  never  shot  a  deer !  "  Charlie,  who  was  walk- 
ing ahead,  stopped  short  and  turned  round  as  well  as 
he  could,  without  dropping  the  pole.  "  Well,  you'd 
be  too  great  a  curiosity  to  live  long  in  Manitoba,  at 
that  rate.  Of  course  we'll  come  back  again.  And 
come  to  think,  a  haunch  of  venison  won't  be  bad  to 
hook  on  to  the  pack  horse,  'long  with  some  of  these 
birds.  It'll  enliven  the  outfit  immensely.  Morning's 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE.  119 

the  best  time  for  deer,  too  ;  but  I  reckon  that  along 
toward  evening  I  can  find  a  spot  where  some  of  'urn 
will  be  coming  down  to  the  lake  for  a  nightcap." 

They  spent  an  hour  or  two  of  the  afternoon  in  mak- 
ing up  their  outfit,  and  while  the  keeper  of  the  ranch- 
house  was  preparing  the  best  of  the  game  for  their 
pack,  they  rode  into  the  woods  again  in  search  of  deer. 
This  time  Sancho  and  Panza  were  along,  and  as  they 
approached  the  spot  which  Charlie  had  selected,  he 
said  :  "  I'll  hang  round  here  with  the  horses,  while 
you  work  your  way  up  the  lake.  I  don't  suppose  any 
one  would  trouble  the  horses  if  we  left  them  alone. 
There  are  no  bad  Indians  in  the  neighborhood  that  I 
know  of  ;  but  no  matter  how  good  and  peaceable  he  is, 
a  member  of  the  Lo  family  isn't  to  be  trusted  alone  in 
the  woods  where  a  horse  is  handy,  any  more  than  a 
bank  cashier  in  the  States,  if  he's  on  the  line  of  the 
night  express  for  Canada.  Just  go  easy,  and  work 
along  the  shore  to  the  upper  end  of  the  lake.  Keep 
your  eyes  peeled,  especially  where  there  are  patches  of 
moss.  If  I  ain't  more  than  mistaken,  before  you  turn 
back  you'll  strike  one  herd  at  least.  If  you  keep  out 
of  sight,  and  see  them  before  they  see  you,  you've  got 
'um  ;  but  if  they  show  you  their  tails,  just  let  them 
go,  and  try  for  more.  A  little  noise  will  scare  them 
quicker  than  anything  else ;  but  if  you  see  them  first, 
and  run  your  handkerchief  out  on  a  limb,  it  will  some- 
times draw  them  down  to  you.  There'll  always  be 


120  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE. 

one  big  buck  with  the  bunch.  He's  your  man.  Take 
him  right  behind  the  fore  shoulder  if  you  can ;  if  not, 
then  take  the  neck  right  behind  the  horns." 

The  sun  was  less  than  an  hour  high  when  Oscar 
started  up  the  lake.  He  walked  carefully,  keeping  as 
much  out  of  sight  as  possible,  and  stopping  occasion- 
ally to  look  about  him.  But  the  position  was  against 
him.  The  dry  twigs  would  snap  under  his  feet,  and 
twice  he  had  the  chagrin  of  looking  up  to  see  the  dark- 
brown  figures  disappearing,  that  told  him  how  near  he 
had  been  to  the  coveted  prize. 

He  was  nearing  the  head  of  the  lake,  and  growing 
disappointed,  when,  in  turning  about  a  huge  bowlder 
that  extended  into  the  water,  he  discovered,  on  the 
hillside  above  him,  and  less  than  a  thousand  feet  away, 
four  of  those  slender,  graceful  creatures,  standing  out 
against  the  glowing  western  sky  as  though  they  were 
drawn  in  India  ink. 

It  almost  took  his  breath  away,  and  his  fingers 
twitched  nervously  about  his  rifle  as  he  stood  riveted 
to  the  spot,  admiring  the  beautiful  picture. 

They  were  slowly  moving  toward  the  water,  crop- 
ping here  and  there  a  tempting  bit  of  moss  as  they 
passed  it. 

From  a  sportsman's  view  his  position  was  the  most  un- 
fortunate possible.  They  were  coming  directly  toward 
him.  He  could  not  move  without  attracting  their 
attention.  They  were  above  him,  and  even  while  they 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE.  121 

were  eating  would  be  looking  right  toward  him.     The 
sun  was  behind  them,  and  full  in  his  eyes.     But  for 


EVERT    HEAD   WAS   LIFTED. 


simple  beauty,  a  better  position  could  not  have  been 
found. 

They  saw  him  quite  as  soon  as  he  saw  them,  for 
every  head  was  lifted,  and  every  deer  stood  like  a 
figure  in  bronze,  planted  on  that  mossy  knoll. 


122  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE. 

The  old  doe  was  in  front,  with  the  youngest  of  the 
family  just  behind  her,  stretching  its  neck  to  see  what 
was  moving  down  below.  A  two-year-old  came  next, 
and  the  old  buck  was  behind,  standing  on  the  very 
brow  of  the  hill,  knee-deep  in  moss.  He  stood  square 
to  the  front,  with  his  head  erect,  and  his  graceful 
antlers  sharp  and  clear  against  the  sky. 

For  a  moment  Oscar  forgot  his  errand.  With  the 
sun  in  his  eyes,  and  the  narrow  front  which  the  old 
buck  presented,  he  would  not  have  ventured  to  fire 
even  if  he  had  been  nearer,  and  he  stood  watching  the 
group  With  much  the  same  interest  that  they  stood 
watching  him. 

They  did  not  seem  much  afraid,  or  at  all  inclined  to 
move  away  ;  and  as  the  hunter's  nature  began  to  assert 
itself  again,  Oscar  drew  back  behind  the  bowlder  so 
slowly  and  cautiously  that  he  did  not  disturb  them, 
and  carefully  picked  his  way  to  a  position  where  he 
could  watch  them  through  the  branches,  without  being 
seen. 

They  were  evidently  suspicious,  and  ready,  very 
easily,  to  take  alarm ;  but  gradually  ventured  nearer 
and  nearer  to  the  lake. 

At  last  the  sportsman  conquered  entirely,  and  with 
every  muscle  strained  and  quivering,  with  his  heart 
throbbing  and  his  lips  parched,  Oscar  knelt  in  the 
shrubbei-y  and  waited. 

Three  times  they  seemed  more  inclined  to  turn  back, 


WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND   RIFLE.  123 

and  three  times  his  finger  trembled  on  the  trigger.  It 
was  a  bad  position  for  a  shot,  but  he  was  determined 
to  run  his  chance  and  fire,  rather  than  let  them  go. 

With  many  a  timid  start  and  doubtful  sniff  they 
reached  the  edge  of  the  grass  by  the  lake,  not  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  away,  and  all  the  time  the  old 
buck  had  kept  his  face  directly  toward  the  bushes 
where  Oscar  was  hiding. 

Oh !  if  he  would  only  turn.  He  must  turn !  It 
seemed  hours  instead  of  less  than  fifteen  minutes  since 
they  started  down  the  hill. 

In  his  intense  excitement  Oscar  moved  one  knee  a 
hair-breadth  for  a  firmer  rest,  to  stop  its  trembling. 
One  little  twig  cracked  under  it,  and  in  an  instant 
every  deer  had  whirled  about  and  started  up  the  hill. 
Oscar  sprang  to  his  feet,  aimed  and  fired  before  he 
really  knew  what  he  was  doing,  and  it  was  with  a 
peculiar  sensation  of  surprise  that  he  saw  the  old  buck 
give  one  leap  into  the  air  and  roll  over  on  the  moss. 

Springing  forward  he  cut  the  buck's  throat  to  let 
him  bleed,  and  standing  back  a  step  or  two  looked  at 
his  first  capture  with  an  exultant  admiration  which 
only  a  sportsman  can  appreciate. 

The  triumph  was  too  great  to  keep  to  himself  long, 
however.  He  thought  of  his  friends  at  the  opposite 
end  of  the  lake,  and  dropping  his  rifle  put  his  fingers 
to  his  lips  and  sent  a  shrill,  sharp  whistle,  three  times, 
echoing  down  the  gorge.  He  stood  listening  intently 


124  WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND   RIFLE. 

for  a  moment  till  up  the  lake  there  came  the  response 
in  a  distinct  but  distant  bark.  Then  he  threw  himself 
upon  the  moss  beside  his  prize. 

Mountain  Charlie  heard  the  shot,  and  after  waiting 
a  few  minutes  was  preparing  to  work  his  way  in  that 
direction  with  the  horses,  when  the  distant  signal 
caught  his  ear.  He  knew  what  it  must  mean,  but  he 
was  not  prepared  to  see  Panza  and  Sancho  understand 
it  perfectly,  too. 

Panza  was  lying  down,  apparently  asleep,  and  San- 
cho was  lazily  cropping  the  grass  at  a  little  distance. 
In  an  instant  Panza  was  upon  her  feet,  and  Sancho's 
head  was  thrown  high  in  the  air,  with  his  ears  pricked 
up  and  his  nostrils  stretched.  The  moment  the  third 
whistle  sounded  Panza  gave  a  sharp,  fierce  yelp  which 
must  have  sounded  along  the  water  for  a  mile  or  more, 
and  Sancho  tossed  his  head  and  watched  her  while  she 
hunted  for  a  moment  till  she  struck  the  trail. 

With  a  low  bay  Panza  indicated  that  she  was  on 
the  track,  and  with  her  nose  to  the  ground  started 
along  the  lake.  Sancho  did  not  wait  for  an  invitation, 
but  trotted  close  behind  her. 

Charlie  stood  looking  on  in  astonishment  until  they 
started,  and  then  mounting,  followed  after  them.  He 
could  easily  have  found  Oscar  by  shouting  or  firing 
his  pistol  in  the  regular  ranger's  signal,  but  there  was 
no  need  of  it.  No  guide  could  have  led  the  way  more 
intelligently.  Once  or  twice  she  lost  the  trail  for  a 


WITH    SHOT-GUN    AND    RIFLE.  125 

moment,  but  Sancho  understood  her  actions  as  well  as 
the  cowboy,  and  they  waited,  together,  till  the  path 
was  found  again. 

They  were  not  long  in  coming  out  upon  the  knoll 
where  Oscar  was  sitting,  but  before  Charlie  could 
congratulate  him  upon  his  luck  he  gave  vent  to 
deeper  feelings  in  the  exclamation :  "  By  Jiminy ! 
That's  a  horse  and  a  dog  worth  having,  now  I  tell 
you.  If  nobody  steals  them  before  you  finish  your 
jaunt  it's  because  they  don't  know  what's  what, 
that's  all." 

"  Well,  I'm  precious  sure  they  won't  try  to  steal 
them  if  they  do  know  what's  what,"  Oscar  replied, 
laughing;  and  a  moment  later  they  were  busily  en- 
gaged upon  the  deer,  preparing  to  fasten  to  their 
saddles  such  parts  as  were  best  worth  saving. 

"  It  makes  one  think  of  the  poor  hungry  creatures 
all  over  the  world,  to  throw  away  such  meat  as  that," 
Oscar  remarked,  as  Charlie  filled  up  the  waste  pile, 
where  Panza  was  daintily  munching. 

"There's  two  or  three  ways  of  looking  at  that," 
Charlie  replied.  "  In  the  first  place,  if  those  poor 
hungry  creatures  would  only  come  out  here  and  go  to 
work  producing  something  for  themselves,  the  world 
they  left  behind  them  would  be  much  better  off  for 
their  going,  and  the  world  they  came  into  would  be 
much  better  off  for  their  coming ;  and  they  could  have 
all  this  waste  stuff  or  better,  and  would  no  longer  be 


126  WITH   SHOT-GUN   AND   RIFLE. 

hungry  and  poor.  Then  again,  if  they  won't  coine 
and  get  it,  it  does  not  really  go  to  waste,  after  all. 
You  come  round  here  in  the  morning  and  how  much 
do  you  think  you  will  find  left  of  it  ?  In  the  course 
of  time  it  will  all  turn  up  somewhere,  in  the  shape  of 
furs  and  skins  or  something  useful  that  it  has  helped 
to  keep  alive  and  fatten.  Nature  does  not  ever  let 
anything  go  to  waste,  even  up  here  in  Manitoba." 

While  they  were  talking  there  was  a  splash  in  the 
water  of  the  lake.  Charlie  started,  and  looked  quickly 
and  cautiously  in  that  direction. 

"  Look  there  !  "  he  whispered.  "  See  that  big  buck 
taking  the  water?  He'll  round  that  curve  in  five 
minutes.  Oh !  if  we  only  had  a  canoe  now,  we  could 
head  him  beautifully." 

At  the  extreme  upper  end  of  the  lake  the  head  and 
towering  antlers  of  a  deer  appeared,  gliding  swiftly 
out  over  the  glistening  surface,  leaving  a  trail  of  danc- 
ing ripples  and  a  white  wake  behind. 

"  There  is  a  canoe !  "  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  I  saw 
one  pulled  up  in  the  cove  as  I  came  round  the  rock.*' 

"  Well,  "if  that  ain't  luck  and  Al !  "  Charlie  re- 
plied. "  Can  you  paddle  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  can,"  Oscar  answered.  "  But  it's 
your  turn.  Go  for  him  !  "  he  added  nervously,  with- 
out taking  his  eyes  from  the  deer  as  it  shot  swiftly 
down  the  lake  toward  the  narrow  run  made  by  the 
bowlder  and  the  cove. 


BIX  INCHES   FROM   THE   MARK. 


WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND   RIFLE.  129 

"  I've  shot  more  deer  than  I  can  count,"  Charlie 
whispered.  "  Doii't  wait  a  second.  If  the  canoe  is 
sound  get  out  to  the  edge  of  the  cove.  Wait  there 
till  he  sees  you  and  turns.  Then  go  it !  Get  as  near 
him  as  you  can,  and  just  before  he  strikes  the  bank 
let  him  have  it  in  his  neck,  right  behind  the  ears. 
Be  quick  !  " 

There  was  no  time  for  argument,  and  Oscar  did  not 
wait  for  a  second  invitation.  He  was  beside  the  canoe 
in  an  instant,  and  had  it  in  the  water  without  noise 
enough  to  startle  a  mouse  ;  but  it  was  heavy  and  old. 
It  had  been  lying  there  all  winter,  and  he  had  to  kneel 
carefully  to  prevent  going  through.  He  had  often 
paddled  on  Manitoba  Lake,  with  his  Indian  nurse,  be- 
fore he  was  five  years  old,  and  often  upon  the  Thames 
between  Oxford  and  the  Coltswold  hills,  but  this  was 
something  very  different.  Now  his  loaded  rifle  was 
beside  him,  and  a  glorious  big  buck  was  gliding  past 
him,  while  the  canoe  lay  heavily  in  the  water  and 
wabbled  till  he  could  hardly  manage  it.  Altogether 
he  made  poor  progress.  More  than  once  the  paddle 
splashed  in  the  water  in  spite  of  him,  and  by  the  time 
he  reached  the  edge  of  the  cove  where  he  was  to  wait, 
he  found  that  the  deer  had  already  heard  him  and 
swerved  away.  There  was  a  long  half-circle  of  ripples 
bending  toward  the  shore,  and  the  buck,  with  his  back 
toward  the  canoe,  was  making  for  the  opposite  bank. 

It  was  the  critical  moment.     Only  a  narrow  line  of 


130  WITH    SHOT-GUN   AND    RIFLE. 

neck  behind  the  antlers  appeared,  in  that  position,  and 
as  the  deer  was  swimming  faster  now,  his  head  swayed 
from  side  to  side,  and  the  long  hair  down  his  back 
floated  in  a  constantly  twisting  line  just  upon  the  sur- 
face. The  crank  canoe  would  shift  in  spite  of  him, 
the  muscles  of  his  arms  quivered,  and  his  hands  trem- 
bled as  much  from  his  eager  work  with  the  paddle  as 
from  excitement.  He  could  even  see  the  muzzle  of 
his  rifle  wabble. 

An  older  hunter  would  have  given  up,  but  to  Oscar 
it  seemed  as  though  to  try  and  fail  were  better  than 
not  to  try  at  all,  and  aiming  quickly  he  fired ;  but  he 
had  the  cold  comfort  of  seeing  the  splash  as  his  bullet 
struck  the  water,  less  than  six  inches  from  the  mark. 

He  paddled  back  to  the  shore  disconsolately,  but  as 
he  stepped  out  of  the  canoe  where  Charlie  was  waiting, 
he  said :  "  I  believe  I  am  glad  I  didn't  hit  him,  after 
all.  We  have  more  meat  than  we  can  use  now,  and 
what  was  the  use?  He  was  mighty  handsome.  Too 
handsome  to  kill  for  the  fun  of  it !  " 


CHAPTER   X. 

OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 

BEFORE  sunrise  the  next  morning  they  were  ready 
for  the  start.  Charlie  owned  two  horses,  one  of  which 
they  were  to  use  as  a  pack  horse.  Upon  a  regulation 
pack  saddle  of  the  plains  was  strapped  everything 
absolutely  necessary  for  their  journey,  and  a  supply  of 
meat  carefully  wrapped  up  in  prairie  grass. 

As  Charlie  was  laying  out  the  load  he  remarked, 
"  It  makes  a  pile  of  difference,  with  the  size,  whether 
you  take  just  what  you  need  or  only  what  you  can't 
do  without." 

It  seemed  to  Oscar  at  the  time  that  they  must  l>c 
pretty  much  the  same,  but  he  had  occasion,  later,  to 
discover  that  Charlie  was  right,  and  that  between  the 
two  there  was  a  very  wide  range. 

Seeing  the  meagerness  of  what  was  going  on  to  the 
pack  saddle  out  of  Charlie's  private  possessions,  Oscar 
protested  that  in  order  to  make  room  for  blankets, 
food  and  other  articles  for  him,  Charlie  was  leaving 

131 


132  OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 

behind  a  great  many  of  his  own  things  that  were  too 
valuable  to  abandon.  "  We  can  do  without  them  well 
enough,"  Charlie  replied,  "  and  a  pack  horse  always 
gives  out  the  first  of  all." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  pack  them  in  a  box  and  have 
them  sent  to  you  when  you  locate  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  They're  of  no  great  value,"  Charlie  answered, 
throwing  another  armful  into  his  bunk,  "  and  express- 
ing is  expensive  in  these  parts.  However,  they'll  keep 
in  there  as  well  as  anywhere.  No  one  will  want  to 
use  that  bunk  before  fall,  and  we  don't  know  what 
may  happen  by  that  time." 

Oscar  was  satisfied,  and  never  dreamed  that  Mount- 
ain Charlie  was  making  that  journey  simply  to  be  with 
him  •  to  guard  him  from  dangers  of  which  he  knew 
nothing,  and  aid  him  in  defending  himself,  in  the  firm 
conviction  that,  if  they  lived  and  accomplished  their  pur- 
pose, Oscar  would  yet  return  and  recover  his  rightful 
position  as  the  master  of  the  Peterson  Estate. 

They  mounted  just  before  the  first  ray  of  sunlight 
shot  over  the  prairie  from  above  the  distant  butte. 
Panza  bristled  all  over  with  pride  as  she  was  given 
the  lead  line  of  the  pack  horse  to  carry,  and  Oscar 
cast  one  sad  farewell  glance  at  the  speck  of  black  upon 
the  summit  of  the  butte,  sharply  outlined  against  the 
coming  morning.  To  him  it  seemed  beyond  a  doubt 
the  last  time  that  he  should  ever  see  that  beautiful 
home  on  the  heights  overlooking  Manitoba  Lake. 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  133 

It  is  true  that  he  had  not  actually  lived  there  many 
weeks,  and  that  everything  was  so  changed  since  his 
early  boyhood  that  the  sentiments  and  associations  of 
those  days  could  have  but  little  to  do  with  the  present. 
In  reality,  however,  he  had  lived  there,  and  only  there, 
through  all  his  schooldays.  Every  letter  from  his 
father,  describing  the  changes,  had  fastened  them  in 
his  mind  ;  every  breath  he  breathed  had  been  in  pre- 
paration for  return.  The  pride  that  he  felt  in  the 
little  sign  that  hung  over  the  shed  end  of  the  cabin 
had  grown  as  he  grew,  and  the  ambition  that  thrilled 
every  hour  of  study  or  play  had  been  to  perfect  his 
ideal  of  "  Oscar  Peterson :  Ranchman  and  Ranger." 

He  only  looked  once  at  the  dark  outline  on  the  dis- 
tant butte.  Then  he  turned  his  head  quickly,  and 
looked  away  to  the  south,  where  his  duty  lay ;  a  duty 
that  meant  far  more  to  him  than  any  sentiment,  hope 
or  ambition.  It  did  not  blot  out  the  ambition  of  his 
life.  It  only  rose  above  it. 

Mountain  Charlie  noticed  the  farewell  glance  and 
the  sad  face,  and  had  the  good  sense  to  realize  that 
Oscar  would  do  better  to  be  let  alone,  so  they  started 
in  silence  and  sadness  ;  a  good  omen,  perhaps,  for  a 
different  return. 

For  the  first  mile  the  horses  walked,  and  Panza  fol- 
lowed sedately,  leading  her  charge.  When  the  rest 
broke  into  a  canter,  if  he  did  not  follow  quickly 
enough,  she  would  drop  the  line  for  an  instant,  give 


134  OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 

his  hind  leg  a  nip,  and,  dashing  ahead,  pick  up  the 
line  and  hurry  on. 

They  were  able  to  keep  up  a  fair  rate  of  speed,  for 
the  way  was  generally  open,  and  a  part  of  the  time 
there  was  a  trail  to  guide  them.  There  were  oppor- 
tunities enough  for  shooting,  but  while  the  stock  of 
provision  held  out  the  time  was  too  precious  to  waste. 
The  first  human  beings  they  met  were  a  small  band 
of  Indians,  during  the  afternoon  of  their  second  day. 
Charlie  talked  with  them  for  a  moment  in  signs,  and 
they  rode  on. 

"  That  is  a  language  which  I  must  learn  about  as 
quickly  as  I  know  how,"  Oscar  remarked. 

"It's  very  easy.  There's  nothing  to  it,"  Charlie 
replied.  "  It's  mostly  a  matter  of  instinct,  and  a  good 
deal  guess  work,  with  just  a  few  established  signs  for 
the  most  common  things.  I  was  asking  them  about 
the  lower  branch  of  the  Assiniboin  ;  whether  it  was 
high,  and  if  there  was  a  ford  anywhere  where  we 
should  not  wet  the  outfit.  They  said  there  was  a 
Blackfoot  camp  just  this  side  of  the  river;  that  we 
ought  to  reach  it  to-morrow  night,  and  that  near  the 
camp  there  is  a  trail  leading  to  the  best  ford  for  sev- 
eral miles.  It  was  easy  enough  to  make  that  out ;  but 
I  don't  believe  that  even  the  spoken  language  of  any 
Indian  tribe  is  very  clear.  They  use  the  signs  almost 
as  much  when  they  are  talking  among  their  own  tribe, 
as  when  they  are  talking  with  others  who  have  a  dif- 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  135 

forent  language.  I  have  often  heard  it  said  of  the 
Arapahoe  Indians,  for  instance,  that  they  cannot  make 
one  another  understand  with  any  certainty  in  the  dark. 
Their  name  is  '  Good  Hearts,'  and  their  sign  is  touch- 
ing the  left  breast.  The  Cheyennes  are  '  Cut  Arms,' 
and  their  sign  is  this :  drawing  one  hand  across  the 
other  wrist.  The  Sioux  are  Cut  Throats.  Their  sign 
you  can  imagine.  They  and  the  Blackfeet  are  the 
same,  practically,  and  they  are  the  worst  set  of  red- 
skinned  devils  anywhere  in  these  parts." 

"  What  are  some  of  the  other  signs  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  Why,  just  as  near  the  thing  you  mean  as  you  can 
get.  A  tent,  for  instance,  is  like  this  :  shutting  all 
but  the  forefingers  of  each  hand,  and  touching  the 
tips  of  them,  so.  See  ?  It  is  supposed,  at  least,  to 
look  like  a  tent.  Then  a  lot  of  tents  is  made  by  open- 
ing all  the  fingers  and  just  touching  the  tips  together. 
A  man  on  a  horse  is  two  fingers  of  one  hand  aj.ride 
the  other  hand.  Crossing  the  fingers  at  right  angles 
means  to  swap  or  trade.  Bring  your  hands  together, 
this  way,  and  cross  them  in  front  of  you,  with  the 
palms  toward  your  body,  and  you  mean  night.  Just 
reverse  the  motion,  and  stop  with  the  hands  stretched 
out  and  the  palms  up,  and  you  mean  day.  Point 
upward,  and  make  a  circle  in  the  air,  and  you  mean 
anything  pertaining  to  Heaven.  See?  It's  very 
simple." 

"  I  should  think  there  would  have  to  be  a  good  deal 


136  OVER   THE   PRAIRIE. 

more  to  it  than  that,  in  order  to  carry  on  a  conversa- 
tion," Oscar  observed,  but  Charlie  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  just  like  selecting  your  outfit.  If  you've  got 
a  schooner  along,  you  can  fill  it  with  what  you  need, 
but  if  you've  only  your  pack  horse,  you  can  take  all 
that  you  can't  get  on  without.  Take  anything  that 
you  have  ever  got  to  say  to  an  Indian,  and  signs  are 
quite  sufficient ;  but  if  you  undertook  to  enlighten  him 
about  something  he  had  never  seen  or  heard  of,  and  if 
you  spoke  his  language  like  a  native,  to  boot,  you 
couldn't  do  it.  We  had  a  great  time  with  the  fellows 
one  spring.  We  had  taken  a  lot  of  skins,  among  us, 
at  the  ranch,  during  the  winter,  and  thought  we'd  add 
a  few  more  and  make  it  an  object  to  ship  them  ;  so  we 
rounded  up  a  bunch  of  Indians  on  the  way  to  the 
trading-post,  with  furs,  and  began  a  trade.  We 
agreed  to  give  them  so  much  a  pound  for  their  skins, 
and  charge  so  much  a  pound  for  tea,  blankets,  ammu- 
nition and  tobacco.  Well,  we  weighed  their  skins, 
and  then  as  they  picked  out  what  they  wanted,  we 
weighed  that.  Pretty  soon  we  found  they  were  get- 
ting ugly,  and  come  to  find  out,  they  thought  we  were 
cheating  them.  We  explained  the  scales,  and  the  way 
to  come  at  the  amounts  and  values,  over  and  over 
again,  but  we  couldn't  get  the  first  idea  of  it  into  their 
heads.  At  last  we  gave  up  in  despair,  and  told  them 
to  take  their  skins  and  go ;  but  that  didn't  please  them, 
either.  Then  we  asked  them  what  in  the  world  they 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  137 

did  want,  and  lo  and  behold  !  they  wanted  us  to  put 
the  skins  in  one  side  of  the  scales,  and  what  they  had 
bought  all  in  a  lump  in  the  other  side.  You  had  bet- 
ter believe  we  were  quick  to  accommodate  them,  and  it 
only  took  about  half  of  what  we  had  laid  out  for  them, 
to  weigh  down  the  skins.  Some  of  the  fellows  were 
for  making  them  take  the  stuff  that  way,  after  they 
had  insisted  on  it,  but  we  finally  gave  them  the  whole, 
and  let  them  go ;  and  over  in  the  village,  the  next  day, 
one  of  the  boys  heard  them  boasting  to  some  of  the 
Indians  there,  about  how  they  had  cheated  us  and  got 
almost  twice  as  much  as  they  paid  for." 

"  You  wouldn't  think  that  Indians  were  such  stupid 
things,"  Oscar  remarked ;  and  Charlie  replied,  quickly : 

"  I  don't  think  it  was  stupidity  at  all !  That's  just 
what  I  mean.  I  think  it  was  simply  because  they  had 
no  words  or  signs  that  gave  a  chance  to  explain  a 
thing  so  entirely  out  of  their  sphere  as  a  set  of  scales. 
And  I  think  that  accounts  for  more  than  half  the 
trouble  which  the  United  States  Government  has  with 
the  Indians.  They  have  a  treaty  and  reservation 
scheme  explained  to  them,  with  a  lot  of  conditions  and 
quirks  that  nobody  fully  understands,  and  they  say 
yes,  and  agree,  and  every  one  supposes  it's  all  right, 
till  they  find  that  the  Indians  haven't  the  least  idea  of 
abiding  by  the  arrangement,  and  then  there's  a  howl 
against  the  Indians,  and  a  fight,  and  all  that,  when,  in 
reality,  I  don't  believe  the  fellows  ever  really  had  any 


138  OVER   THE    PRAIRIE. 

more  idea  of  the  matter  than  they  had  of  our  scales. 
I  don't  believe  they  are  treated  fairly  ;  but  it's  not 
that  I  think  there  is  an  honest  Indian  in  the  whole 
bunch  of  'um,  for  I  don't." 

A  moment  later,  Charlie  continued  :  "  The  system 
of  signs  goes  a  good  deal  farther  than  this  hand  busi- 
ness. There  is  a  rather  elaborate  system  of  signals 
by  smoke  from  a  hot  fire  covered  with  grass.  They 
take  a  big  blanket  and  hold  it  over  the  fire,  shutting 
in  the  smoke,  and  letting  it  out  in  bunches  to  indicate 
what  they  want  to  say  to  people  miles  away.  They 
use  their  ponies,  too,  and  arrows  and  blankets,  and 
all  sorts  of  things  in  telegraphing  messages.  By  the 
way,  the  system  of  signals  by  flash-lights  and  reflec- 
tions which  the  British  army  has  recently  adopted, 
was  caught  from  the  Indians.  In  a  battle,  if  a  chief 
can  get  up  on  a  hill  where  his  warriors  can  see  him, 
with  the  sun  in  the  right  direction,  and  where  he  can 
see  the  enemy,  he  will  give  his  commands  from  there 
more  successfully  than  if  he  was  on  the  spot.  He  has 
something  like  a  small  mirror  which  he  holds  in  his 
hand,  and  sends  a  series  of  flashes  in  a  way  to  indicate 
what  he  wants." 

"  Do  they  really  use  poisoned  arrows  in  fighting  ?  " 
Oscar  asked. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  sometimes  I  reckon  they  do.  But  I 
don't  believe  they  do  so  often  as  in  stories.  They 
have  a  way  of  pinning  down  a  rattlesnake,  and  teas- 


OVER  THE  PRAIRIE.  139 

ing  him  with  a  piece  of  liver  till  he  bites  it,  and  fills 
it  with  poison,  and  then  they  make  a  mush  of  it  to 
daub  on  their  arrows,  sometimes." 

"I  wonder  whatever  started  them  in  that  horrible 
trick  of  scalping  and  mutilating,"  Oscar  said  with  a 
shudder,  as  he  thought  of  the  days  and  the  miles  that 
lay  before  him  through  the  Indian  country. 

"  I  believe  it  was  their  theory  of  the  hereafter  —  that 
a  man  who  is  scalped  never  comes  to  light  again  in 
the  other  world.  When  an  Indian  has  killed  a  man, 
his  theories  of  the  happy  hunting  ground  are  such 
that  he  would  rather  not  meet  him  there  ;  so  he  scalps 
him.  He  is  precious  sure  to  scalp  a  pale  face  at  every 
opportunity,  on  the  same  principle  ;  and  as  for  cutting 
him  in  pieces,  I  suppose  it  is  only  because  he  is  con- 
stitutionally so  mad  with  the  pale  face  that  he  can't 
help  it.  I  believe  they  are  very  apt,  too,  to  leave  the 
mark  of  their  tribe  on  a  victim  ;  cutting  out  the  heart 
for  an  Arapahoe  mark,  cutting  the  wrists  for  a  Chey- 
enne, and  cutting  the  throat  for  a  Sioux,  and  so  on. 
Ugh!  How  I  hate  them  !" 

"  That's  why  they  are  so  careful  to  carry  off  their 
dead,  isn't  it?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"I  suppose  so.  At  any  rate,  they  do  whenever  they 
have  a  chance,  and  they  are  very  skillful  at  it,  too. 
If  there  is  one  thing  that  an  Indian  can  do  to  perfec- 
tion, it  is  ride  a  horse.  I  have  seen  two  of  them  go  at 
full  speed  for  a  dead  Indian,  lean  from  their  horses, 


140  OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 

each  grab  an  arm,  and,  with  one  swing,  land  the  body 
across  the  saddle,  in  front  of  one  of  them,  without 
slacking  up  an  atom.  I  wish  they  were  all  in  Texas,  if 
I  ain  to  live  in  Manitoba." 

"  I  don't  feel  so  hard  toward  them  as  you  do  ;  per- 
haps because  I  have  not  seen  enough  of  them  ;  one 
family,  at  least,  was  very  loyal  and  true  to  my  father, 
and  I  shall  never  forget  that,"  Oscar  said  earnestly, 
"  and  I  don't  know  of  anything  that  to  me  is  half  so 
interesting  to  hear  about  and  read  about.  But  it's 
a  fact,  they  are  a  big  disappointment,  in  reality  ;  all 
that  I  ever  came  across,  at  least." 

With  unusual  energy,  Charlie  replied  :  "  Right  you 
are !  They're  a  greasy,  dirty,  treacherous  set,  wher- 
ever you  find  them.  If  the  Government  only  un- 
derstood them,  and  could  make  them  understand,  and 
would  treat  them  honestly  and  fairly,  on  that  basis, 
they  would  be  a  great  deal  better  than  they  are ;  and 
I  don't  believe  in  shooting  a  man  at  sight,  anyway, 
just  because  he's  an  Indian.  But  I  do  believe  that  if 
you  don't,  and  he  ever  gets  a  chance,  he  will  shoot  you 
just  because  you  are  a  pale  face.  And  you  have  got 
to  treat  him  accordingly,  or  get  left." 

"  He  certainly  has  some  excuse,"  Oscar  remarked. 

"  Indeed  he  has,"  said  Charlie.  "  When  you  are 
out  of  Indian  country,  and  stop  to  think,  you  wonder 
that  he  ever  lays  down  his  rifle  and  tomahawk  long 
enough  to  eat  or  sleep.  But  the  fact  is,  he  has  abused 


OVER   THE    PRAIRIE.  141 

his  excuse  till  there  isn't  enough  of  it  left  to  swear  by. 
He  has  some  of  the  best  qualities  that  were  ever  stored 
in  human  hide.  Indian  children  mind  as  well  as  your 
dog.  You  never  hear  a  pappoose  yell.  I  don't  believe 
that  a  murder  or  a  theft  in  one's  own  tribe  was  ever 
heard  of,  unless  it  was  after  they  had  been  turned 
into  a  set  of  drunken  louts  upon  a  reservation.  The 
squaws  are  what  we  call  abused  ;  but  it's  more  custom 
than  cruelty.  They  expect  it  as  much  as  other  women 
expect  the  civilities  to  which  they  are  accustomed. 
Three  or  four  generations  are  often  huddled  into  one 
tepee,  and  there's  not  a  set  in  the  civilized  world  that 
could  stand  it ;  but  you  never  heard  of  a  family 
quarrel  or  a  fight  of  any  kind,  inside  the  tribe.  They 
are  quicker  than  lightning,  and  shrewder  and  sharper 
on  the  war  path  than  cats  after  mice.  They  are  brave, 
too,  and  they  will  fight  like  your  crane,  even  after 
they  are  dying.  Why,  if  they  had  the  white  man's 
possibilities,  I  believe  they  could  drive  us  out  of  the 
country,  even  now.  But  just  look  at  them.  A  full 
stomach  is  the  only  thing  they  care  for,  except  fire- 
water. They  are  lazy,  and  dirty  as  hogs.  They  will 
lie  and  cheat  when  you'd  think  it  to  their  immediate 
advantage,  and  more  convenient,  to  be  honest.  A  wolf 
isn't  more  cold  blooded.  A  fox  isn't  half  so  treacher- 
ous. I  pity  them,  I  admire  them,  I  despise  them, 
and  I  am  mortally  afraid  of  them.  1  wish  I  might 
never  see  another  Indian  as  long  as  I  live." 


142  OVER   THE   PRAIRIE. 

"  It's  a  very  funny  thing,"  Oscar  observed.  "  I've 
noticed  it  everywhere.  The  best  sailors  always  seem 
to  be  the  most  afraid  of  storms.  The  best  scholars  in 
my  class  were  the  most  afraid  of  examinations.  Our 
bronco  buster  on  the  farm  told  me  that  he  would 
about  as  soon  have  a  finger  cut  off  as  break  an  ugly 
colt ;  for  he  was  sure,  every  time,  that  he  should  come 
out  of  it  with  his  own  neck  broken,  instead,  and  wished 
he  might  never  see  a  horse  or  a  saddle  again  ;  yet  that 
very  day  we  watched  him  break  the  wildest  colt  I  ever 
set  eyes  on.  He  saddled  him  with  a  pully  line,  while 
another  fellow  held  him  by  a  long  lip-rope,  pulling  on 
it  with  all  his  might.  It  took  a  half-hour  to  get  the 
bridle  on.  Then  he  mounted,  and  put  a  silver  half- 
dollar  under  each  foot.  The  fellow  cut  the  lip-rope,  for 
he  could  not  get  near  enough  to  slip  it.  The  colt 
lunged,  reared,  plunged,  squealed,  kicked  —  did  every- 
thing he  could  think  of ;  and  between  whiles,  while 
he  was  thinking  of  something  new,  went  tearing  like 
mad  round  the  corral.  Twice  he  stumbled  and  went 
almost  down.  Once  he  jumped  clean  over  the  corral 
fence.  Well,  when  he  was  completely  tuckered,  and 
gave  up,  the  buster  rode  him  up  and  down,  a  little, 
just  as  easy  as  you  please,  and  then  came  up  to  where 
father  and  I  were  standing,  and  there  were  the  half- 
dollars,  still  lying  in  his  stirrups.  Why,  if  I  could  ride 
a  horse  as  well  as  that,  it  seems  as  though  I  should  be 
crazy  to  bust  a  bronco  every  day  of  my  life." 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  143 

"  I  reckon  that's  the  very  secret  of  it,"  Charlie  re- 
pliedv  "  You  can't.  If  you  could,  you'd  find  that  it 
wasn't  so  easy  as  it  looks.  You  know  Pope  said, 
'  For  fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread  ; '  and 
wasn't  it  Longfellow  who  wrote,  '  Only  those  who 
brave  the  dangers  comprehend  the  mysteries  ?  '  It's 
only  by  handling  Indians  or  colts  that  yon  find  out 
what  hot  potatoes  they  are,  and  how  carefully  you've 
got  to  touch  them,  or  get  burned." 

"  I  never  had  much  time  for  reading  poetry,"  Oscar 
remarked,  diverted  from  his  theme  by  the  surprise  at 
finding  such  a  thing  hidden  under  the  rough  exterior 
of  his  cowboy  friend.  "  I  like  it,  and  it  does  one 
good  to  read  good  poetry,  and  I  mean  to  take  up 
a  regular  course  of  it,  sometime ;  but  so  far  I  have 
always  had  to  work  too  hard  at  my  regular  studies.  I 
should  think  that  ranch  life,  especially  in  the  winter, 
would  give  one  just  glorious  opportunities  for  such 
things." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  that  if  you  really  wanted  to  read, 
you  might  work  in  a  little  now  and  then  ;  but  I  reckon 
that  the  fellow  who  takes  to  ranching,  is  not  one  who 
is  overfond  of  books.  There's  plenty  to  do  on  a  ranch, 
now  I  tell  you,  and  as  a  fact,  beyond  newspapers  and 
the  Bible,  I  don't  believe  I  have  read  a  chapter  a  year 
since  I  came  West.  I  got  most  of  my  poetry  when  I 
was  studying  English  Literature,  and  when  I  left 
college  I  left  books  pretty  thoroughly." 


144  OVER   THE    PRAIRIE. 

"  College  ! "  Oscar  looked  up  in  blank  astonish- 
ment. 

Mountain  Charlie  laughed  and  laughed,  until  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  Panza  looked  up 
with  wistful  eyes,  as  though  she  were  wishing  that  she 
could  laugh  like  that.  When  he  could  speak,  Charlie 
gasped  :  "  That's  for  all  the  world  the  way  that  you 
looked  at  the  crane.  But  it's  a  fact !  Just  thirteen 
years  ago  this  summer,  as  green  and  proud  a  boy  as 
ever  you  saw,  I  stood  up  in  Harvard  College  and  re- 
ceived my  diploma  and  degree  of  Master  of  Arts.  I 
don't  blame  you  for  jumping,  though,  when  you  come 
across  the  fact  out  on  this  prairie." 

"  That's  hardly  fair,"  Oscar  replied,  slowly,  think- 
ing out  his  way  as  he  went.  "  When  I  first  met  you 
at  the  ranch-house,  the  day  I  went  down  there  with 
father,  I  thought  you  as  perfect  as  a  picture.  Why, 
I  could  hardly  even  understand  what  you  said,  you 
talked  so  funny ;  and  I  was  astonished  when  father 
told  me  that  you  were  at  the  head  of  that  whole  de- 
partment of  the  estate.  Then,  on  the  way  home  he 
told  me  about  your  bravery  with  the  Indians,  and  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  that  must  be  your  strong  point, 
and  that  you  must  be  a  sort  of  a  terror  that  had  better 
be  kept  away  from.  Ever  since  we  went  to  the  In- 
dian camp  after  Black-dog,  you've  been  so  different 
that  I  knew  I  was  mistaken,  some  way,  and  I've  been 
wondering  how.  Now  I  know." 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  145 

Mountain  Charlie  laughed  again  till  the  broad 
prairie  resounded,  and  Panza  went  so  far  as  to  bark, 
in  a  struggle  to  join  him,  though  she  had  to  drop  the 
lead  rope  to  do  it. 

"  It's  all  in  where  you  are  and  what  you're  doing," 
he  said,  at  last.  "  If  you're  in  Rome  be  a  Koman,  or 
get  out.  It's  just  as  instinctive  to  be  a  cowboy,  on  a 
ranch,  as  it  is  to  use  signs  with  an  Indian.  There's 
just  one  lingo  that  fits  a  cowboy.  Some  of  his  words 
you  couldn't  use  anywhere  else  if  you  tried,  any  more 
than  you  could  find  other  words  to  take  their  place 
with  him.  The  miner  has  his  own  lingo,  just  the 
same,  and  every  man,  coming  from  North  or  South, 
drops  into  it  as  easily  as  he  does  into  appropriate 
boots  and  hat." 

Oscar  found  the  long  days  in'the  saddle  materially 
shortened  by  such  conversations,  aside  from  the  amount 
of  information  he  received  upon  points  that  were  to  be 
of  living  interest  if  he  ever  entered  upon  the  life 
which  all  his  dreams  had  painted  for  him. 

Before  sunset  on  the  day  when  they  passed  the 
Indians,  they  came  upon  a  cowboy's  dugout,  in  the  side 
of  a  low  range  of  hills,  where  Charlie  thought  they 
had  better  spend  the  night.  It  was  only  a  hole  dug 
into  the  hillside,  with  a  log  front  in  which  was  an 
opening  for  a  door.  Above  it  rose  an  old  powder  keg 
for  a  chimney. 

"  It  hasn't  been  used  since  last  summer,"  Charlie 


146  OVER   THE   PRAIRIE. 

remarked,  "  and  it  isn't  particularly  inviting  ;  but  if 
those  clouds  should  turn  out  rain  we  might  be  very 
glad  of  the  shelter." 

"  Why  not  stay  outside,  unless  it  does  rain  ? " 
Oscar  asked. 

"  That's  all  right,"  Charlie  replied  ;  "  and  it's  a  pity 
for  either  of  us  to  keep  awake.  We  might  tether  the 
horses  pretty  close  in,  and  with  nobody  round  to  mix 
her  up,  I  reckon  Panza  would  let  us  know  in  time." 

They  placed  most  of  the  outfit  in  the  hut,  built  a 
fire,  and  hung  their  kettles  upon  a  cross-stick.  Oscar 
was  rapidly  learning  the  ranger's  art  of  cooking,  as 
well  as  many  other  of  his  arts  ;  but  hardly  an  hour 
passed  that  he  did  not  thank  good  Fortune  that 
Charlie  was  with  him  ;  for  the  more  he  learned,  the 
more  he  realized  how  much  he  did  not  know.  After 
such  a  supper  as  only  a  ranger  could  either  prepare 
or  appreciate,  he  spread  his  rubber  blanket,  took  off 
his  boots,  and  rolled  himself  in  his  wool  blanket  as 
scientifically  as  any  cowboy,  and  with  his  feet  to  the 
fire,  and  his  saddle  for  a  pillow,  he  stretched  himself 
as  contentedly  for  a  night's  sleep  as  though  he  were  in 
his  little  room,  with  solid  stone  walls,  and  a  deep-set 
window  and  comfortable  bed,  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Thames. 

Charlie  piled  up  the  fire  with  what  he  could  find 
that  would  be  apt  to  "  hang  on,"  left  a  little  pile  of 
dry  sticks  beside  it  for  cooking  breakfast,  tethered  the 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  147 

horses  less  than  twenty  feet  away,  and  lay  down  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  fire.  By  way  of  good-night, 
he  said : 

"  Don't  forget  that  if  you  grow  chilly  toward  morn- 
ing, it  will  make  a  pile  of  difference  if  you  pull  your 
blanket  up  over  your  face." 

The  moon  was  just  above  the  foot-hills,  ready  to 
set,  behind  them,  when  Oscar  woke.  He  was  quite 
cold  and  stiff,  but  looking  at  his  watch  he  found  it 
was  after  four,  and,  instead  of  trying  Charlie's  experi- 
ment, which  he  afterward  found  to  be  a  very  valuable 
hint,  he  thought  he  would  quietly  get  up  and  try  his 
hand  at  getting  breakfast  all  alone. 

As  soon  as  the  fire  was  burning  well,  he  cut  the  last 
of  the  meat  from  a  venison  joint,  and  threw  the  bone 
to  Panza  to  keep  her  quiet,  put  on  some  beans  and 
coffee,  rolled  up  his  blankets,  set  the  horses  out  to  get 
their  breakfast,  and  knelt  before  the  fire,  with  a  knife 
in  one  hand  and  frying-pan  in  the  other,  to  prepare 
the  deer  steaks. 

Suddenly  Panza  dropped  her  bone  and  sprang  to 
her  feet  with  a  low  growl.  With  the  frying-pan  and 
knife  in  hand,  Oscar  started  up.  He  was  sure  that 
Charlie  was  sound  asleep  a  moment  before,  yet  as  he 
gained  his  feet,  he  saw  that  he  had  already  thrown  off 
his  blanket ;  he  heard  the  click  of  a  hammer,  and, 
glistening  in  the  moonlight,  saw  his  big  six-shooter  all 
loady  for  action.  For  a  moment  he  forgot  the  possi- 


148  OVER   THE    PRAIRIE. 

bility  of  danger,  and  realizing  his  own  position,  in 
contrast,  was  ready  to  burst  out  laughing  at  the  ludi- 
crous figure  he  must  present  to  an  approaching  enemy, 
when  Panza,  dropping  her  fierceness,  calmly  trotted 
out  into  the  darkness,  turning  to  the  right,  along  a 
line  of  shrubbery  growing  at  the  base  of  the  hill. 

"That's  rather  odd,"  Charlie  muttered,  as  he  lay 
looking  after  her. 

"  It's  the  oddest  thing  I  ever  saw,"  Oscar  replied, 
decidedly,  and  laying  down  the  knife  and  frying-pan, 
he  picked  up  his  rifle. 

"  Go  easy,  now,"  Charlie  warned  him  as  he  passed, 
and  cautiously  crept  out  of  their  sheltered  corner, 
keeping  close  under  the  bushes. 

The  three  horses  were  quietly  feeding  within  a 
hundred  feet.  It  was  growing  darker  as  the  moon 
went  down,  but  "he  could  easily  distinguish  their  outlines 
and  see  that  nothing  else  was  near.  One  of  them,  not 
satisfied  with  his  night's  rest,  had  lain  down  again, 
and  was  eating  in  that  position,  which  would  certainly 
be  impossible  if  he  had  been  startled,  and  Pauza 
surely  was  not  with  them. 

He  crept  on  a  little  farther,  and  was  on  the  point  of 
whistling  for  Panza,  in  the  fear  that  by  some  mysteri- 
ous means  she  might  have  been  enticed  away  to  be 
killed,  when  he  saw,  not  far  before  him,  the  form  of 
an  Indian  pony,  as  white  as  snow. 

He  dropped  upon  one  knee,  with  his  rifle  at  his 


OVEE   THE   PRAIRIE.  149 

shoulder.  The  pouy  stood  close  to  the  line  of  bushes ; 
but  closer  yet,  in  the  dark  shadows,  he  was  sure  that 
he  saw  something  move.  He  was  afraid  to  fire  at 
random,  and  he  did  not  dare  to  speak,  but  with  his 
rifle  ready,  he  watched  intently,  till  his  eyes  became 
better  used  to  the  shadows,  and  he  distinguished  Pan- 
za's  form,  with  her  back  toward  him.  Yes ;  and  the 
movement  that  he  saw  was  nothing  else  than  Panza's 
tail,  contentedly  wagging. 

What  could  it  mean?  A  moment  later  he  distin- 
guished another  outline,  beyond.  Some  one  was  bend- 
ing over  Panza.  He  was  completely  puzzled,  and,  as 
if  to  bewilder  him  yet  more,  the  figure  stood  erect, 
with  one  leap  landed  on  the  pony's  back,  bent  for- 
ward to  give  Panza  a  parting  caress,  and  was  away  like 
the  wind,  into  the  darkness  beyond,  leaving  on  Oscar's 
mind  nothing  but  the  certainty  that  it  was  an  Indian. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that?"  a  voice  asked,  and 
turning  quickly,  Oscar  discovered  that  Charlie  was 
close  beside  him. 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  he  replied,  as  Panza  came 
slowly  trotting  up  to  them,  evidently  unharmed,  and 
quite  unconscious  that  she  had  done  anything  at  all 
surprising.  "  A  week  ago  I  would  not  have  believed 
that  any  one  could  have  come  near  enough  to  Sancho 
to  mount  him,  or  near  enough  to  Panza  to  touch  her ; 
least  of  all  an  Indian.  I  wonder  what  he  was  doing 
to  Panza?" 


150 


OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 


"  Stealing  her  collar,  perhaps,"  Charlie  suggested, 
with  a  low  laugh. 

"No.  Hold  on!  But  what's  this?"  Oscar  ex- 
claiined,  as  he  felt  for  Panza's  collar,  and  his  hand 


IT   WAS   AN   INDIAN. 


came  in  contact  with  something  that  was  fastened  to  it. 

u  It's  a  piece  of  bark,  with  something  written  on  it," 

Charlie  replied,  holding  it  up  in  the  fading  moonlight. 

"•  I  reckon  we'd  better  pull  the  horses  in,  to  have  them 


OVER   THE   PRAIRIE.  151 

ready,  and  then  see  what  it  is.  It's  a  warning  of 
some  sort." 

There  was  an  air  of  mystery  about  it  which,  in  that 
darkest  hour  before  dawn,  and  in  their  uncertain  sur- 
roundings, made  Oscar  move  nervously  as  he  hurried 
to  act  upon  the  suggestion.  He  did  not  feel  so  sure 
of  Panza  either,  as  he  thought,  and  wondered  if  there 
were  not  other  Indians  lying  about  in  the  bushes, 
ready  to  spring  upon  them  ?  He  began  to  realize 
what  a  comfortable  thing  it  is  to  have  a  companion  at 
such  a  time. 

When  everything  was  within  touch  about  the  fire, 
Charlie  knelt  down  to  secure  the  best  light  from  the 
blaze,  and  examined  the  warning.  It  proved  to  be  a 
strip  of  shaving  instead  of  bark,  and  with  a  charred 
stick  some  one  had  written  upon  it :  "  Blackfoot 
tepees  by  river,  heap  bad  place.  Pale  face  no  stop, 
no  eat,  no  sleep.  Blackfoot  steal  horse,  steal  all. 
One  mile  more  good  place  cross  river.  Six  mile  more 
heap  pale  face  tepee.  Heap  good  pale  face.  Pale 
face  go  there  sleep,  eat." 

Oscar  had  learned  enough  of  the  uncertainties  of 
signs  like  this  upon  the  plains  to  refrain  from  forming 
any  opinion,  and  quietly  waited  for  Charlie  to  speak. 
He  sat  by  the  fire  in  silence,  for  some  minutes,  turn- 
ing the  shaving  over  and  over,  reading  it  again,  and 
investigating  in  several  ways  which  Oscar  could  not 
understand.  Suddenly  he  looked  up  and  asked : 


152  OVER    THE    PRAIRIE. 

"  Have  you  any  particular  friend  among  the  In- 
dians —  some  one  for  whom  you  have  done  a  great 
favor?" 

Oscar  only  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  replied  that  he 
had  not  been  in  Manitoba  long  enough  even  to  know 
a  dozen  Indians  by  sight,  much  less  to  do  a  single  act  of 
kindness,  large  or  small,  to  any  one. 

He  was  a  little  disappointed  when  Charlie  simply 
remarked : 

"  Well,  let's  have  breakfast  over,  and  get  packed 
up  and  ready  to  start  as  quickly  as  we  can.  I  am 
losing  my  appetite." 

He  hardly  spoke  another  word  till  all  was  ready  for 
the  start,  but  obviously  kept  the  sharpest  lookout  in 
every  direction,  with  one  eye  constantly  on  Panza,  and 
his  rifle  always  close  at  hand. 


CHAPTER  XL 

OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL   EXPERIENCE. 

THEY  stood  by  their  horses  ready  to  mount. 
Charlie  looked  anxiously  along  the  low  line  of  hills, 
then  at  the  eastern  sky  that  was  beginning  to  brighten. 

"  I  don't  like  to  run  along  beside  those  hills  in  the 
dark,"  he  muttered;  "but  it's  high  time  we  were  on 
the  way  if  we  must  make  that  extra  seven  miles  and  a 
ford  before  night." 

"  Do  you  take  much  stock  in  that  message  ?  "  Oscar 
asked,  at  last. 

"  Why,  yes  ;  in  a  way  I  do,"  Charlie  answered, 
deliberately.  "  There's  certainly  some  Indian  aroiuid 
who  knows  quite  as  much  about  our  business  as  we  do, 
and  that  alone  is  disagreeable  and  dangerous.  The 
Indians  all  hate  me  as  much  as  I  hate  them,  and 
there's  no  danger  of  it's  being  any  one  laying  himself 
out  on  rny  account.  If  you  had  some  frantic  friend 
in  a  red  skin,  that  would  make  all  as  clear  as  day.  I 
rather  think  it  is  connected  with  you,  any  way,  and 

153 


154  OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

that  it  is  the  same  fellow  who  brought  you  your  horse. 
You  may  have  done  something  for  him  and  forgotten 
it.  But  I  may  be  mistaken,  and  that's  where  the 
trouble  comes  in.  That  Blackfoot  camp  that  those 
Sioux  told  us  about  yesterday,  ought  to  be  just  a 
good  day  from  here.  I  was  planning  to  stop  there^ 
to-night,  for  it  is  much  safer  to  sleep  in  an  Indian 
camp  than  anywhere  in  the  neighborhood  of  it.  There 
are  precious  few  Indians  who  can  write  in  English, 
and  those  who  can  are  usually  the  biggest  scamps  in 
the  bunch.  This  may  be  a  Chippewa,  who  is  death 
on  a  Blackfoot,  first,  last  and  always,  or  maybe  there's 
an  opposition  bunch  across  the  river  that  would  like  to 
get  us  over  there  after  dark.  The  white  settlement  he 
speaks  of,  across  the  river,  is  Mennonite,  and  they  are 
good  people,  any  way.  The  country  from  the  river  on 
is  as  flat  as  a  pancake,  and  if  we  can  cover  it  by  day- 
light, we're  all  right.  I  don't  see  how  a  Chip  or  any 
other 'stranger  could  make  so  free  with  Panza,  though. 
She  seemed  to  recognize  him  at  sight,  and  I  rather 
think  you'll  find  it's  a  friendly  Indian  who  has  met 
her  before.  But  come  on.  We'll  know  by  night  if 
he  spoke  the  truth.  Keep  your  eyes  peeled,  and  we'll 
keep  up  a  pretty  good  pace  till  we  leave  the  hills." 

If  there  were  Indians  about  they  made  no  demon- 
stration. The  sun  came  up  and  the  trail  led  away 
from  the  hills,  and  over  the  broad  plain  toward  the 
river,  but  they  still  kept  on  at  a  slow  canter  till  nearly 


OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE.         155 

ten  o'clock,  when  they  stopped  for  half  an  hour  to  let 
the  horses  rest  and  feed.  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach, 
not  a  living  thing  was  in  sight.  Away  behind  them 
the  hills  they  had  left  were  only  a  low,  irregular  ridge 
upon  the  horizon,  and  farther  away  in  the  opposite 
direction  a  dark  shadow  indicated  the  line  of  trees 
bordering  the  river. 

At  noon  they  stopped  for  dinner  where  the  trails 
divided  into  three. 

"  I  wish  some  one  would  show  up  to  tell  us  which  of 
these  to  take  to  strike  the  ford,"  Charlie  remarked  as 
he  sat  eating  and  studying  the  three.  "  I  believe  we 
had  better  keep  the  middle  one,  but  I'll  bet  my  boots 
it  goes  past  the  Blackfoot  camp." 

"  What's  the  harm  if  it  does  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  There's  no  harm,  only  that  I  am  so  constituted 
that  the  sight  of  an  Indian  takes  away  my  appetite," 
Charlie  said,  with  a  laugh. 

He  was  right  in  his  conjecture,  for  by  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon  they  found  themselves  passing  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  Blackfoot  encampment. 

"  I  call  this  pretty  good  going,"  Charlie  remarked 
with  satisfaction.  "  Now  the  ford  can't  be  more  than 
a  mile  away,  and  if  we  can  strike  it  first  shot,  without 
wasting  time  running  up  and  down  the  river,  we're 
solid." 

"  I  wonder  if  these  fellows  wouldn't  tell  us  straight 
if  we  rode  over  and  asked  them  ?  "  Oscar  suggested. 


156  OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

"  They  might,  possibly,  and  even  if  they  didn't,  it 
would  do  no  great  harm.  I  don't  feel  much  like  tak- 
ing the  pack  horse  out  of  the  way,  for  he's  pretty  well 
tuckered,  now;  but  I  could  lead  him  while  you  and 
Panza  run  over,  and  meet  us  again  a  half-mile  below," 
Charlie  said. 

He  said  it  so  carelessly  that  Oscar  did  not  imagine 
how  carefully  he  had  thought  it  out,  fearing  that  the 
outfit  might  tempt  the  Indians,  and  wishing  to  have 
Oscar  out  of  the  way  of  any  shots  that  might  possibly 
be  fired  while  lie  was  taking  it  past  the  encampment. 
If  he  had  suspected  such  a  thing  it  would  have  seemed 
to  him  a  curious  place  to  send  him  for  personal 
safety,  but  as  a  rule  the  safest  place  about  an  Indian 
encampment  is  right  among  the  tepees. 

They  were  following  a  trail  made  by  the  dragging 
ends  of  tent  poles  fastened  to  the  backs  of  Indian 
ponies.  It  led  directly  toward  the  highlands  that 
fenced  in  the  river,  but  that  alone  was  no  evidence 
that  it  led  to  the  ford.  Leaving  the  two  horses  plod- 
ding on,  Oscar  and  Panza  struck  out  for  the  camp, 
with  the  parting  admonition  from  Charlie,  "  Don't 
fire  unless  you  mean  to  kill,  and  then  be  sure  you 
do  it." 

They  were  not  long  in  reaching  the  little  cluster  of 
tepees.  It  was  the  most  quiet  spot  imaginable.  "  It's 
all  humbug  about  these  fellows  here  being  dangerous," 
Oscar  said  to  himself.  "  Why,  there  are  not  a  dozen 


OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE.          157 

tents  in  all,  and  there's  not  a  single  soul  in  sight." 
When  he  came  a  little  nearer,  however,  the  silence  at 
least  was  well  broken  by  the  barking  of  a  small  army 
of  dogs  of  all  sorts,  colors  and  sizes,  the  moment  they 
caught  sight  of  Panza.  They  jumped  up  from  the 
grass  where  they  had  been  sleeping,  they  came  from 
behind  the  tepees,  they  poked  their  way  out  under  the 
sides  of  the  tents. 

The  tepees  were  most  of  them  canvas,  though  there 
were  two  or  three  of  skin,  with  grotesque  attempts  at 
outline  drawings  in  bright  colors,  on  the  sides.  Even 
the  barking  of  the  dogs  had  but  little  effect.  Here 
and  there  a  squaw  appeared  in  the  shadows,  sitting  on 
the  ground  inside  the  tent,  or  a  pappoose  lifted  his  little 
head,  somewhere,  while  Panza,  in  sublime  disgust  at 
the  ovation  she  was  receiving,  showed  a  vicious  row  of 
teeth,  and  walked  on  close  behind  Saneho's  heels.  A 
half-dozen  horses,  without  saddles  or  bridles,  stood 
nodding  in  the  shadow  of  one  of  the  tents,  and  one  of 
them  whinnied  to  Sancho ;  but  receiving  no  response 
apparently  went  to  sleep  again.  a 

Oscar  began  to  suspect  that  this  was  about  all  the. 
welcome  he  was  to  receive.  He  rode  through  the 
camp  without  rinding  anything  but  an  occasional  squaw, 
and  whether  he  spoke  or  not  he  received  only  a  gut- 
tural grunt  or  a  muttered  "  How,"  by  way  of  greeting. 
Apparently  they  not  only  did  not  understand  anything 
more,  but  had  no  notion  of  trying  to.  He  was  about 


158          OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

to  give  up  in  despair  and  ride  away,  when  a  withered 
old  medicine  man  appeared  in  the  door  of  one  of  the 
tepees. 

The  medicine  man  is  a  chief  of  grave  importance 
and  great  influence  in  his  tribe.  His  work  of  healing 
is  only  a  very  slight  part  of  his  professional  duties. 
Unless  he  is  called  upon  to  administer  to  some  trouble 
that  he  thoroughly  understands,  where  his  golden-rod, 
arnica,  wet  blankets,  blisters  or  sweat-house,  or  some 
of  his  innumerable  combinations  are  an  established 
remedy,  he  goes  to  the  patient  with  a  drum  and  any- 
thing else  which  will  help  to  make  a  noise,  and  either 
kills  him  outright,  or  frightens  him  into  pretending, 
at  least,  that  he  feels  better. 

An  Indian's .  constitution  is  very  apt  to  aid  such 
theories  and  practice  of  medicine,  by  naturally  mak- 
ing a  quick  recovery  or  a  sudden  death,  and  in  either 
case  the  medicine  man  is  held  very  little  accountable. 
Everything  that  is  profound  or  mysterious  in  nature, 
art  or  science,  however,  comes  under  the  Indian  term 
of  medicine,  and  the  medicine  man  is  the  scientist,  the 
astrologer,  the  prophet  and  the  priest  of  his  tribe.  If 
they  want  more  rain  the  medicine  man  must  bring  it. 
If  the  floods  rise  he  must  stop  them.  Every  brave 
carries  about  with  him  his  little  medicine  bag,  which 
contains,  not  a  cure  for  anything,  but  a  little  ounce  of 
prevention  for  everything,  and  the  medicine  man  must 
prepare  that. 


OSCAR    HAS   A   PERSONAL   EXPERIENCE.         161 

In  these  ways,  where  there  really  ought  not  to  be 
any  responsibility  at  all,  the  medicine  man  is  held  very 
responsible.  Many  a  poor  medicine  man  has  been  tor- 
tured, and  even  put  to  death  by  his  tribe,  for  failing 
to  bring  rain,  when  they  only  honored  him  for  fright- 
ening to  death  some  sick  man  whose  trouble  he  did 
not  happen  to  understand.  The  fellow  who  appeared 
in  the  tent  door  to  see  what  Oscar  wanted  had  been 
not  only  very  shrewd,  but  fortunate  to  reach  that 
shriveled  and  withered  age  in  such  precarious  service. 
He  greeted  Oscar  with  a  grave  and  dignified  wave  of 
his  hand,  and  spoke  English  well  enough  to  make 
himself  easily  understood  by  the  aid  of  signs. 

The  old  chief  appeared  to  answer  the  questions  put 
to  him  to  the  best  of  his  ability,  and  Oscar  was  sur- 
prised to  see  how  easily  he  could  understand  the  signs, 
and  how  natural  it  was  to  make  them  while  trying  to 
put  his  questions  in  the  simple  and  direct  Indian  form. 

After  thanking  him  for  the  information,  Oscar  rode 
away  in  the  opposite  direction  from  which  he  came, 
for,  if  the  chief  had  told  him  correctly,  Charlie  was 
upon  the  wrong  side  of  the  camp,  and  would  reach  the 
river  nearly  a  mile  out  of  the  way.  Before  he  ac- 
cepted the  statement,  however,  it  occurred  to  Oscar  as 
a  good  plan  to  ride  out  in  that  direction  and  judge  a 
little,  if  possible,  for  himself. 

Following  the  medicine  man's  directions,  he  struck 
for  a  low  line  of  knolls  which  he  said  bordered  the 


1G2  OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

river,  and  were  not  more  than  half  a  mile  away.  For 
a  time  Panza  seemed  greatly  relieved  at  being  out  of 
the  Indian  village,  but  before  long  Oscar  noticed  that 
she  was  again  showing  her  teeth  and  savagely  licking 
her  chops,  while  she  bristled  all  over,  and  kept  up  a 
low,  deep  grumble.  He  looked  about  for  the  cause, 
but  as  they  were  gradually  climbing  the  knoll  he  was 
too  eager  to  see  what  was  beyond  to  think  of  looking 
back,  till,  finally,  Panza  turned  clear  about  and  gave 
a  fierce  and  decided  growl. 

Then  Oscar  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  and  a  cold 
shiver  ran  down  his  back  as  he  discovered  a  half-dozen 
mounted  Indians  dashing  toward  him  from  the  village. 
He  could  distinctly  see  the  camp,  too,  and  see  that  the 
horses  by  the  tent  had  disappeared. 

It  seemed  cowardly  to  be  afraid  of  them,  so  he 
spoke  to  Panza,  and  went  on,  muttering:  "  So  those 
young  bucks  were  hiding  in  the  tents  all  the  time  I 
was  there.  I  wonder  what  they  are  after  now  ?  " 

A  moment  later  he  looked  back  again.  They  were 
nearer  and  less  careful.  He  could  easily  hear  the 
sound  of  their  horses'  hoofs  on  the  soft  turf. 

"  I  could  outrun  them,  fast  enough,"  he  muttered, 
looking  ahead,  "  but  I  don't  know  where  I  should 
fetch  up." 

He  looked  off  to  the  left.  Charlie  was  a  mile  or 
more  away  in  that  direction  ;  but  to  reach  him  would 
be  to  give  the  Indians  the  benefit  of  a  short  cut  to 


OSCAR   HAS   A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE.         103 

overtake  him,  "  as  well  as  a  broad  side  to  sight  on  if 
they  meant  business,"  he  added,  without  carefully  con- 
sidering the  mathematical  facts  of  the  case.  Then  he 
remembered  that  he  had  not  yet  accomplished  what  he 
started  for,  and  to  give  up  anything  was  so  much 
against  the  theories  and  practices  of  his  life,  that  he 
was  on  the  point  of  starting  again,  when  the  Indians 
saw  that  he  was  watching,  and  with  a  wild  whoop  they 
started  forward  at  a  quicker  pace,  swinging  their  guns 
in  the  air  and  shouting  to  their  horses. 

Panza  drew  her  tail  between  her  legs  and  skulked 
back  into  the  grass.  Sancho  threw  up  his  head,  laid 
back  his  ears,  and  seemed  ready  to  break  and  run. 
Oscar  felt  it,  too,  for  if  there  is  anything  that  can 
always  make  the  blood  of  man  and  beast  run  cold,  it 
is  an  Indian  yell.  Even  in  the  excitement  of  the 
moment,  Oscar  thought  of  what  Charlie  had  said  about 
walking  ten  miles  and  sleeping  in  a  snowbank  rather 
than  hear  that  whoop.  He  had  thought  it  almost 
silly  at  the  time,  but  he  suddenly  realized  what  it 
meant. 

There  was  only  one  thing  of  which  Oscar  felt  sure  : 
after  being  so  thoroughly  frightened  by  that  yell,  he 
did  not  propose  to  close  the  scene  by  running  away. 
To  convince  the  Indians  of  this,  he  deliberately  turned 
Sancho  half -about,  and  sat  looking  at  them  as  they 
came  on. 

He  had  not  waited  long  before  a  shot  was  fired,  and 


164 


OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 


the  next  instant   his  rein   parted,  cut   by  the  bullet, 
half-way  between  the  bit  and  Saneho's  throat. 

Oscar  bent  forward  to  be  sure  that  Sancho  had 
escaped,  then,  quick  as  thought,  he  slipped  from  the 
saddle,  and  making  it  a  rest  for  his  rifle,  stood  with  a 
bead  drawn  on  the  foremost  of  the  band.  He  remem- 


"THAT  WILL  DO." 

bered  Charlie's  warning.     He  aimed  to  kill,  and  did 
not  propose  to  fire  until  he  had  to. 

The  effect  was  like  magic.  The  Indians  stopped 
short,  and  scattered  in  every  direction,  like  a  flock  of 
ducks  that  had  been  fired  into.  Suddenly  each  rider 
disappeared  behind  his  horse,  and  nothing  was  to  be 


OSCAR   HAS   A   PERSONAL   EXPERIENCE.         165 

seen  of  them  but  feet  clinging  to  the  saddles  and 
heads  peeping  under  the  horses'  necks. 

If  they  had  been  in  the  forest  they  would  at  once 
have  dodged  behind  the  trees,  and  running  from  one 
to  another  have  made  a  circle  about  him,  gradually 
closing  in  till  they  succeeded  in  shooting  him.  If  it 
had  been  upon  the  open  plain,  they  would  have  sepa- 
rated and,  at  a  distance  from  one  another,  have  ridden 
round  and  round  him,  firing  at  every  opportunity, 
clinging  to  the  horse's  neck  and  back,  and  hiding  be- 
hind his  body  whenever  there  was  danger  that  Oscar 
might  return  the  shot.  Unfortunately  for  their  tac- 
tics, however,  it  was  not  in  the  forest  or  on  the  open 
plain.  Wholly  unintentionally  Oscar  had  chosen  the 
best  position  possible,  almost  at  the  summit  of  the  knoll. 

Constantly  moving  about,  to  prevent  his  obtaining 
a  good  aim  at  any  of  them,  the  Indians  held  a  council 
for  a  moment ;  then  the  leader,  appearing  above  his 
horse,  threw  his  rifle  on  the  ground,  waved  his  blanket 
over  his  head,  and  the  rest  of  the  Indians  appeared. 
Holding  up  his  empty  hands  the  leader  shouted : 

"  Indian  no  mean  shoot.  Heap  bad  gun  shoot  self. 
Me  good  Indian.  Heap  good  friend.  Come  say 
'  How,'  pale  face." 

"  You  can  say  '  How '  where  you  are,"  Oscar  called. 
"  I  don't  want  you  here,  and  I'll  kill  the  first  Indian 
who  comes  a  foot  nearer." 

"  No  kill !     Pale  face  no  kill  good  friend,"  replied 


166  OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

the  Indian ;  but  he  did  not  come  any  nearer.  "  Me 
come  show  pale  face  right  trail  over  big  water." 

"  That  will  do,"  Oscar  retorted.  "  I  am  not  hunt- 
ing trails  this  minute ;  I  am  hunting  Indians,  and 
you  go  back  to  your  tepees  or  I'll  have  you.  Now ! 
One  !  Two  !  "  - 

That  was  all.  With  a  wild  yell,  a  parting  shot 
which  did  no  harm,  and  a  volley  of  curses  in  English, 
they  rode  away. 

It  had  all  happened  so  quickly  that  Oscar  had  acted 
with  very  little  time  for  thought  or  discretion ;  but  to 
say  that  he  was  not  well  frightened  would  be  to  say 
that  he  was  not  a  sensible  boy  of  sixteen.  He  was  in 
his  saddle  in  an  instant,  with  a  hasty  knot  tied  in  the 
broken  rein,  and  he  let  Sancho  move  as  quickly  as 
was  in  any  way  convenient.  He  was  determined,  how- 
ever, to  see  over  the  top  of  the  knoll,  and  he  went 
first  in  that  direction,  keeping  a  sharp  lookout  on  the 
Indians  behind  him. 

They  did  not  attempt  to  return  again,  and  when  he 
reached  a  point  where  he  could  overlook  the  valley 
beyond,  he  was  hardly  surprised  to  find  that  he  was 
even  farther  from  the  river  than  he  had  been  at  the 
village.  The  path  which  Charlie  was  following  was 
too  far  to  the  right  if  anything,  and  turning  to  the 
left  he  rode  rapidly  along  the  brow  of  the  high  land 
till  he  caught  sight  of  his  friend. 

"  The  old  sinner !  "    Oscar  exclaimed,   as  he  told 


OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE.         167 

Charlie  of  his  adventure.  "  He  sent  me  out  there 
just  to  get  me  into  a  trap." 

"  That's  only  saying  that  he  was  an  Indian,"  Charlie 
remarked  a  little  scornfully.  "  But  they  were  too 
smart  for  themselves,  that  time.  They  thought  that 
by  separating  us  they  could  skin  us  both  easier  than 
if  we  were  together,  but  when  half  went  your  way  and 
half  came  mine,  they  didn't  have  men  enough  to  skin 
either  of  us.  Don't  forget  the  lesson,  though,  and 
don't  ever  let  a  red  skin  send  you  off  on  a  wild-goose 
chase  again.  If  I'd  dreamed  of  your  going  on  such  a 
jaunt  I'd  never  have  thought  of  your  starting  at  all." 

"  Do  you  really  think  there  was  any  actual  danger  ?  " 
Oscar  asked. 

"  Of  course  there  was.  Very  decided  danger.  You 
never  can  tell  what  those  young  bucks  will  do  when 
they  start  out  for  a  summer's  stealing.  They  are  all 
very  well  on  the  reservations  if  you  keep  your  eyes 
open  or  have  company,  for  they  are  not  going  to  do 
anything  that  will  get  them  into  trouble  with  the  Gov- 
ernment if  they  can  help  it ;  but  what  witnesses  would 
there  have  been  against  them  if  they  had  killed  you  ? 
Probably  all  they  really  cared  for  was  your  horse  and 
outfit,  but,  mind  you,  so  far  as  conscience  is  concerned 
they  would  just  as  soon  kill  you  as  you  would  kill  a 
fly  that  bothered  you.  That's  the  difficulty." 

"What  would  they  have  done  if  I  had  let  them 
come  up  with  me  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 


168          OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

"  Why,  just  whatever  they  pleased,"  Charlie  replied, 
with  a  laugh,  though  his  face  was  very  earnest.  "  If 
they  can't  use  a  thing  they  can  swap  it  at  an  agency 
for  something  else.  Horses  and  rifles  and  cartridge 
belts  come  in  very  handy  to  an  Indian,  and  you  will 
never  find  a  red  skin  refusing  to  help  himself  to  any- 
thing that  is  within  reach,  whether  it  is  any  good  to 
him  or  not." 

"  I  don't  wonder  that  our  people  are  down  on  the 
Indians,"  Oscar  remarked,  with  the  fresh  prejudice 
gathered  in  his  bit  of  personal  experience. 

"Well,  I  don't  wonder  that  they  are  down  on  the 
pale  face,  either,"  Charlie  responded.  "  If  I  were 
an  Indian  I'd  scalp  every  pale  face  I  met ;  and 
being  a  pale  face  I'd  like  to  see  every  red  skin 
blown  to  blazes.  It's  a  pity,  but  it's  human  nature, 
I  reckon." 

Oscar  was  still  thinking  over  the  matter  when  they 
reached  the  river. 

"  Here's  luck !  "  Charlie  cried,  as  they  found  a 
large  boat  with  three  sturdy  fellows  ready  to  push  off, 
and  easily  secured  transportation  for  themselves  and 
the  pack  saddle. 

"  I  don't  suppose  it's  much  over  knee-deep  along 
the  bar,"  Charlie  remarked  to  Oscar  as  they  seated 
themselves  in  the  boat,  "  and  we'll  have  to  do  a  good 
deal  taller  fording,  without  any  help,  before  we  get 
through;  but  a  horse  is  very  apt  to  stumble  in  the 


OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE.         169 

water,  and  just  at  this  season  it  is  precious  cold  and 
wet." 

Panza  was  given  the  lead  line  of  the  pack  horse,  as 
usual,  and  Oscar  and  Charlie  sat  in  the  stern  to  lead 
their  horses. 

"  She'll  have  to  swim,"  one  of  the  men  remarked, 
nodding  his  head  toward  Panza,  as  they  pushed  slowly 
out.  "Ye  ain't  afeared  she'll  git  drownded  havin' 
ter  keep  her  mouth  open  ?  " 

Oscar  had  not  thought  of  that,  nor  had  Charlie,  but 
before  they  could  decide  what  to  do  Panza,  who  still 
stood  on  the  shore,  studying  the  situation  and  waiting 
for  the  other  two  horses  to  get  into  the  water,  gave 
one  bound  and  landed  on  Sancho's  haunches,  with  her 
fore  feet  on  the  saddle,  as  she  had  so  often  ridden 
from  the  stable.  There  she  sat,  high  and  dry  out  of 
the  water,  till  they  landed  safely  on  the  other  side. 

"  That  dog  knows  more  than  a  dozen  men,"  Charlie 
exclaimed  enthusiastically. 

"  Leastwise  she  knowed  mor'n  ter  git  drownded 
towin'  a  horse  that  was  walkin',"  the  fellows  replied, 
with  a  laugh. 

As  they  were  about  to  start  again  one  of  the  men 
remarked  : 

"  Yer  a  heap  safer  this  side  the  river  than  t'other. 
Thar's  a  squad  o'  Blackfoot  Injuns  campin'  up  the 
trail,  thet's  come  over  frum  the  States  ter  see  what 
they  kin  scoop  in  through  the  summer.  They've  done 


170 


OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 


considerable  killin'  as  well  as  stealin',  an'  d'rectly 
they'll  git  the  sogers  arter  'um  in-  good  shape.  Ef 
ye'd  'a'  come  in  sight  on  'um  they'd  'a'  helped  'um- 
selves  to  your  kit,  live  or  dead,  bein'  only  two  on  ye. 
Yer  lucky  crost  the  river." 

Charlie  did  not  seem  inclined  to  speak  of  the  at- 
tempt they  had  made  to  help  themselves,  so  Oscar 
followed  his  example,  and  bidding  the  men  good-by, 


PANZA   SETTLES   THE   QUESTION. 


they  started  on  with  the  sun  still  nearly  an  hour  high 
upon  their  right. 

"Well,"  Charlie  said,  as  they  dropped  into  a  walk 
to  rest  the  horses  after  a  canter  of  a  mile  or  more, 
"  the  warning  on  that  shaving  was  all  right.  It  was 
either  a  Chippewa  or  some  good  friend  of  yours.  If 
it  was  a  friend  we  shall  very  likely  hear  from  him 
again,  and  if  we  do  we  can  probably  believe  him  in 
advance." 

Oscar,  who  was  bent  upon  gathering  all  the  points 


OSCAR    HAS    A    PERSONAL   EXPERIENCE.          171 

lie  could  upon  any  matter  he  did  not  understand, 
asked,  "  What  was  the  reason  you  did  not  tell  those 
men  about  the  Blackfeet  ?  " 

"  Only  general  principles,"  Charlie  replied.  "  In 
the  first  place,  it's  never  safe  to  tell  a  stranger  in  the 
West  all  that  you  know  about  anything.  Then  every 
frontiersman  seems  to  have  a  mania  for  boasting  of 
his  prowess  with  Indians,  when  nine  out  of  ten  of 
them  would  run  like  a  fox  from  the  shadow  of  a  chief's 
king  feather.  If  a  stranger  begins  upon  you  that  way 
set  him  down  as  a  liar,  and  expect  every  one  else  to 
do  the  same  by  you.  And  chiefly,  I  rather  suspect 
that  those  men  are  officers  in  disguise,  on  the  lookout 
for  people  who  will  give  evidence  against  those  Indians 
so  that  they  can  order  them  back  over  the  border  on  to 
Uncle  Sam.  We  hadn't  time  to  hang  round  here  a 
week  to  testify  about  what  we  are  not  sure  of,  and 
besides,  we're  going  right  through  the  Blackfoot  lands 
in  the  States,  and  an  Indian  never  forgets  a  grudge." 

"  I  thought  the  fellows  must  belong  to  the  settle- 
ment we  are  headed  for  —  what  did  you  call  them  ?  " 

"  Mennonites  ?    O,  no !    They  were  not  Mennonites." 

"  It's  a  queer  name.  I  wonder  how  they  came  by 
it  ?  "  Oscar  said. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  them,"  Charlie  replied, 
"  but  I  do  know  that  they  are  mighty  good  people.  I 
stopped  with  a  set  of  them  a  little  way  from  here, 
over  one  night,  as  I  came  up.  They're  a  religious  sect 


172  OSCAR   HAS    A    PERSONAL    EXPERIENCE. 

—  at  least  they  came  by  their  name  that  way.  Those 
in  Manitoba  are  a  sort  of  cross  between  Russians  and 
Germans.  A  Roman  Catholic  priest  named  Menno, 
was  their  Martin  Luther.  About  four  hundred  years 
ago  he  began  preaching  in  North  Germany  and  Hol- 
land. There  was  a  good  deal  that  was  Quakerish 
about  it,  and  he  founded  quite  a  church,  that  has  kept 
growing  ever  since ;  but  they  won't  go  to  war,  and 
they  won't  fight  at  home,  which  doesn't  work  well  over 
there.  There  were  Mennonites  among  the  first  Dutch 
settlers  in  New  York,  and  I  believe  there  are  over 
sixty  thousand  in  the  States  to-day.  These  fellows 
here  are  a  later  edition.  They  told  me  that  some  hun- 
dred years  ago  their  ancestors  went  from  Germany  to 
Russia  because  the  Tzar  promised  that  if  they  paid 
war  taxes  they  should  not  be  called  upon  to  fight. 
Well,  the  present  Tzar  took  it  back,  and  told  them  to 
go  into  the  army  or  get  out ;  so  a  lot  of  them  went 
to  the  States,  and  about  seven  thousand  of  them  came 
here.  The  Government  gave  them  half  a  million 
acres.  Look !  There  is  the  settlement." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THROUGH   THE   WHEAT   FIELDS    OF   DAKOTA. 

OSCAR  looked  eagerly  forward  and  discovered  a 
little  cluster  of  cabins,  far  in  the  distance,  hardly  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  gray  hills  and  the  brown  grass. 
They  were  all  built  upon  the  same  plan,  with  low 
thatches  and  holes  in  the  center  instead  of  chimneys, 
on  the  principle  of  *the  smoke  hole  in  an  Indian  tepee. 
They  were  of  rough  hewn  boards,  very  strong  and 
substantial  looking,  with  small  square  windows,  and 
were  huddled  together,  in  an  irregular  cluster,  like  a 
settlement  of  tents. 

Oscar  had  studied  German  in  Oxford,  but  he  found 
that  a  hundred  years  in  Russia  had  demoralized  the 
dialect  of  the  good  Mennonites.  However,  they  re- 
ceived a  very  warm  welcome,  and  got  on  well  enough 
with  what  they  could  understand  of  one  another. 

It  was  very  evident  that  they  would  have  got 
on  and  received  the  same  hospitality  if  they  could 
not  have  exchanged  a  word,  for  the  warm-hearted 

173 


174 


THROUGH   THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 


"  Quakerish "  people  knew  what  hospitality  meant ; 
but  they  were  overjoyed  to  find  a  wanderer  from  the 
plains  who  could  talk  with  them,  even  if  they  did 
have  to  try  hard  to  understand  him  and  make  them- 
selves understood. 

The  very  first  settler  whom  they  met  insisted  that 
they  should  stop  with  him,  and  at  once  led  the  way  to 
his  isbar,  as  he  called  his  cabin.  He  helped  them  uu- 


OSCAR   LOOKED    EAGEliLY    FORWARD. 

saddle  their  horses  and  put  them  in  a  shed  at  one  end 
of  the  cabin,  giving  them  such  a  supper  of  oats  and 
hay  as  they  had  not  had  since  leaving  the  ranch. 
Then  he  watered  them  and  locked  the  door,  putting 
the  key  in  his  pocket  with  the  remark  that  they  had 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT   FIELDS.  175 

been  greatly  troubled  by  Sioux  of  late.  He  said, 
with  a  broad  smile,  that  his  own  horse  was  only  a 
mule,  and  a  poor  one  at  that,  so  he  left  him  in  the 
corral ;  but  thought  that  good  horses  should  be  kept 
under  lock  and  key  to  prevent  tempting  the  red 
men. 

There  was  a  broad,  smooth  stone  for  a  step  in  front 
of  the  cabin  door,  and  inviting  his  guests  to  sit  down 
there  he  soon  appeared  with  a  bowl  of  milk  and  a 
large  slice  of  rye  bread  and  cheese  for  each,  "  to  en- 
courage them  till  his  wife  had  prepared  their  supper." 

While  they  ate  he  sat  beside  them  smoking  a  huge 
Russian  pipe,  and  asking  all  kinds  of  questions  about 
the  world  at  large,  as  though  having  come  from  some- 
where besides  that  little  settlement  they  must  know 
just  what  was  going  on  everywhere. 

A  wagon  track  was  the  village  street,  and  the  cabins 
stood  at  irregular  intervals  on  either  side,  while  the 
farms  which  the  villagers  had  taken  up  in  homestead 
claims  stretched  out  in  every  direction.  Just  opposite 
was  the  sawmill  and  grist  mill  combined,  and  further 
down  stood  a  cabin  larger  than  the  rest,  but  in  the 
same  shape,  which  was  used  as  the  schoolhouse  and 
church.  The  old  man  had  only  been  over  for  a  few 
years,  but  he  said  that  his  only  regret  was  that  he  did 
not  come  before.  He  wore  heavy  homemade  boots 
reaching  to  his  knees,  and  homespun  trousers  only 
coming  down  to  meet  them,  tied  just  below  the  knees ; 


176  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 

a  dark  shirt  with  a  loose  collar,  a  little  jacket  reach- 
ing to  his  hips,  and  a  curious  skin  skull-cap. 

Four  barefoot,  rugged  and  solid  little  boys  and 
girls  were  working  or  playing  about  the  house,  and 
often  appeared  around  the  corner  for  an  instant  or  thrust 
a  frowzy  head  through  the  half-open  door,  to  disappear 
the  moment  that  Oscar  looked  at  them.  They  were 
as  much  like  the  old  man  as  the  little  cabins  were 
like  the  church,  and  Oscar  tried  to  make  their  ac- 
quaintance, but  he  could  not  even  obtain  a  good  look 
at  one  of  them  till  they  went  in  to  supper. 

While  they  were  on  the  steps  two  or  three  of  the 
neighbors  came  up,  and  stood  leaning  against  the  cabin 
or  sitting  on  the  grass,  as  anxious  as  their  host  to 
learn  the  news.  The  arrival  of  strangers  in  the 
isolated  settlements  of  the  frontier  is  always  a  signal 
for  a  general  gathering,  and  as  Oscar  sat  in  their 
midst  he  could  not  help  comparing  those  strong,  sturdy 
fellows,  brimful  of  honest  good  nature,  with  the  Black- 
foot  camp,  a  few  miles  away,  where  they  should  have 
been  cooking  their  own  supper,  then,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  mysterious  warning. 

Indians  was  the  great  topic  in  which  they  were  all 
most  interested.  They  said  that  since  the  spring 
opened  there  had  been  no  end  of  trouble  with  the 
Blackfeet,  over  in  the  States.  They  had  left  their 
reservation  and  literally  covered  the  whole  northern 
part  of  Dakota,  murdering  and  robbing  not  only 


THROUGH   THE   WHEAT   FIELDS.  177 

travelers,  but  settlers,  and  burning  their  homes. 
There  were  several  Mennonite  settlements  across  the 
border ;  but  of  late  attempts  to  communicate  with 
them  had  been  entirely  abandoned.  They  understood 
that  United  States  troops  and  a  company  of  Pawnees 
were  after  them  ;  but  one  old  fellow  remarked,  "  The 
Indians  are  very  hard  to  find,  except  when  you  don't 
want  them." 

Several  bands  had  already  crossed  the  border  to 
escape  pursuit,  and  they  asked  particularly  about  the 
band  that  had  encamped  a  few  miles  to  the  north.  It 
had  passed  the  settlement  a  week  before,  taking  several 
horses  and  mules  and  a  few  head  of  cattle  as  toll. 

"  They  went  by  in  the  afternoon,"  said  their  host. 
"  We  gave  them  some  food  and  tobacco,  but  they  were 
not  satisfied  with  that,  and  in  the  night  came  back  for 
more.  He  heard  them  at  it,"  he  added,  pointing  to  a 
broad-shouldered  Mennonite,  "  and  going  out  with  his 
shot-gun  he  followed  them  till  he  was  near  enough  to 
shoot,  and  then  he  let  both  barrels  go.  They  scattered 
in  every  direction,  and  he  got  the  horses  and  mules 
and  brought  them  back,  all  but  three  that  they  were 
riding." 

"  If  I  had  had  any  more  powder  and  shot  to  load 
again  I  would  have  followed  on  till  I'd  got  the  whole," 
he  muttered,  with  a  vindictive  nod  that  sent  the  ashes 
tumbling  from  his  pipe. 

"  Wouldn't  that  be  fighting  ?  "  Oscar  asked  before 


178  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 

he  thought,  remembering  what  Charlie  had  told  him 
about  the  Mennonites. 

With  a  curious,  rippling  wink,  that  spread  over  his 
whole  face,  their  host  replied,  "  Oh !  he's  a  Buttouer  ;" 
at  that  they  all  laughed. 

The  wife  came  to  the  door  to  announce  that  supper 
was  ready,  and  as  it  was  growing  dark  the  neighbors 
went  away,  giving  Oscar  an  opportunity  to  ask,  "  What 
is  a  Buttoner?  " 

He  did  not  fully  understand  the  reply,  but  made 
out  that  some  of  the  Mennonites  had  grown  more 
strict  and  Quakerish  than  Menno  himself,  and  some 
of  them  less  so  as  time  went  on,  till  the  final  separa- 
tion came  when  buttons  were  invented  to  take  the 
place  of  hooks  and  eyes  for  fastening  the  clothing. 
The  strict  ones  held  that  buttons  we^re  an  introduction 
of  the  evil  spirit,  and  would  have  none  of  them.  They 
were  called  Hookers.  The  others  were  called  But- 
toners.  By  degrees  it  came  to  be  a  name  applied  to 
any  Mennonite  who  fell  away  a  little  from  any  of  the 
dictates  of  Menno. 

The  room  they  entered  comprised  the  entire  interior 
of  the  cabin.  It  was  very  much  upon  the  plan  of  the 
squaws'  cabin,  only  that  the  logs  had  been  split  into 
rough  boards,  and  instead  of  a  chimney  there  was 
a  large  fire  basin  in  the  floor,  in  the  center,  whence 
the  smoke  found  its  own  way  to  the  hole  in  the  roof. 
The  two  ends  of  the  room  were  occupied  by  bunks. 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  179 

There  was  a  work  bench  at  one  side,  which  boasted  a 
very  fair  assortment  of  tools  that  had  evidently  pro- 
duced every  article  of  furniture  which  the  house  con- 
tained. Standing  upon  the  bench,  in  process  of 
construction,  was  the  latest  product:  a  quaint,  old- 
fashioned  cradle,  looking  as  though  it  had  been 
modeled  from  a  cut  of  cradles  of  five  hundred  years 
ago.  There  was  nothing  quaint  or  ancient  about  its 
future  occupant,  however  ;  a  fat  and  rosy  little  urchin 
only  a  few  weeks  old,  jogging  about  the  room  upon 
the  broad  hip  of  his  fat  Dutch  mamma,  while  she 
spread  upon  the  plain  wooden  table  a  supper  as  warm 
and  hearty  as  her  husband's  invitation  had  been. 

Early  in'  the  morning  they  started  on  their  way 
southward,  bearing  the  earnest  God  speed  of  their 
host,  who  stubbornly  refused  any  remuneration  for  his 
hospitality,  and  of  the  whole  settlement,  in  fact,  for 
they  all  turned  out  to  see  them  off. 

"  How  strange  it  is  to  find  two  sets  of  people  breath- 
ing the  same  air,  living  on  the  same  soil,  so  different 
as  the  Indians  and  Mennonites,"  Oscar  remarked. 

Charlie  thought  the  matter  over  for  a  moment  and 
replied  :  "  It's  the  nature  of  the  beast.  Skunk  cabbage 
and  forget-me-nots  always  grow  in  the  same  mud  holes." 
He  had  another  matter  on  his  mind,  however,  and  after 
riding  a  little  way  in  silence  began  :  "  I've  been  think- 
ing about  what  they  said  of  the  Sioux  uprising.  They 
are  the  worst  set  of  devils  on  the  plains,  even  when 


180  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 

they  are  at  their  best  on  the  reservation.  If  they've 
left  it  and  spread  out  over  the  north  of  Dakota  there's 
no  telling  where  they'll  fetch  up,  or  what  they'll  do 
when  they  get  there.  There's  not  one  chance  in  ten 
that  we  shall  meet  a  single  party  going  this  way  be- 
tween here  and  Bismarck.  There  are  precious  few 
forts  and  less  settlements,  while  it's  a  perfect  Black- 
foot  hotbed,  and  there  won't  be  a  mile  of  the  way  that 
Indians  won't  know  just  where  we  are  and  what  our 
outfit  is  worth.  If  there  is  anything  to  be  gained  I 
am  ready  to  go  on  in  a  bee  line  for  Bismarck,  and 
fight  our  way  as  far  as  we  can  ;  though  I  very  much 
doubt  the  possibility  of  coming  out  alive.  If  we  do, 
we  shall  reach  Bismarck  pretty  well  tuckered,  as  well 
as  our  horses,  with  the  worst  of  it  all  still  ahead  of  us. 
Now  if  we  go  over  east  a  little  way  we  shall  strike 
Pembina,  on  the  Red  River  of  the  North,  and  can  go 
by  rail  to  Casselton,  and  then  west  by  rail  to  Bis- 
marck, getting  there  about  as  quickly,  entirely  fresh, 
and  in  all  probability  alive.  What  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  The  only  way  I  can  do  it  is  by  swapping  Sancho 
for  a  cheaper  horse  to  pay  the  fare,"  Oscar  replied. 

"  Bosh  !  "  Charlie  exclaimed.  "  I've  got  money 
enough  with  me  to  take  us  that  far  and  still  have 
enough  left  for  a  while.  I  surely  don't  need  it  now. 
If  we  don't  get  through  alive  I  sha'n't  ever  want  it. 
If  we  do,  and  you  ever  strike  it  rich,  somewhere,  you 
can  pay  me  back." 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  181 

Oscar  saw  the  necessity  of  consenting,  and  late  that 
evening  they  entered  Pembina,  on  "  the  American 
side  "  as  it  is  called,  and  for  the  first  time  Oscar 
found  himself  in  the  United  States. 

Pembina  was  one  of  the  first  trading  posts  estab- 
lished in  this  region,  and  had  made  very  little  progress. 
Indians  still  flocked  about  the  town,  but  the  fort 
on  the  west  bank  of  the  river  made  them  "heap 
good  friend  of  pale  face "  while  they  were  in  the 
neighborhood. 

Red  River  carts  were  in  their  glory  here.  Steamers 
for  Winnipeg  were  supposed  to  leave  every  day. 
Hundreds  of  people  were  coming  and  going  through 
Pembina,  but  the  people  who  staid  there  were  in  the 
minority.  It  rained  during  the  night,  and  in  the 
morning  the  mud  was  ankle  deep  as  they  made  their 
way  to  the  railway  station.  The  high  and  narrow 
wooden  sidewalks  were  crowded  with  people  of  every 
stamp  and  every  nation.  The  cars  and  the  steamboats 
brought  them  from  all  parts  of  the  world,  upon  every 
conceivable  mission,  and  carts  and  oxen,  mules  and 
horses  added  to  the  motley  crowd.  There  were  swells, 
from  distant  cities,  in  white  shirts  and  polished  boots  ; 
bull-whackers  and  mule-skinners  in  broad-brimmed 
hats,  woollen  shirts  open  at  the  throat,  high-topped 
boots  heavy  with  red  mud,  and  bull  whips  tied  over 
their  shoulders ;  Chinese,  just  like  Chinese  every- 
where ;  Blackfeet  and  Chippewas,  Indian  from  king 


182  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT   FIELDS. 

feather  to  moccasin,  and  Pawnees,  all  paint  and 
feathers  above  the  shoulders,  then  calico  hunting 
shirts  and  blue  army  breeches,  to  indicate  that  they 
belonged  to  the  Indian  scout  department  of  the  regu- 
lar army  of  the  United  States,  then  moccasins  again, 
suggesting  that  in  head  and  heels,  at  least,  the'y  were 
still  Indians  ;  cowboys,  as  there  are  cowboys  every- 
where, for  one  purpose  or  another,  in  every  frontier 
center ;  emigrants,  starting  for  imaginary  havens, 
their  promiscuous  outfit  packed  in  Red*  River  carts, 
prairie  schooners  or  jiggers,  or  tied  on  the  backs  of 
bony  mules  or  jaded  horses ;  immigrants  with  dilapi- 
dated outfits,  coming  back  from  unveiled  havens ; 
farmers,  miners,  ranchmen,  going  and  coming  with 
their  various  outfits  or  hanging  about  the  stores; 
porters,  bronzed  and  toughened  by  their  long  journeys 
with  skins  and  preparing  for  return  trips  with  the 
products  of  civilization ;  women  who  had  been  out  of 
society  so  long  that  they  had  forgotten  how  to  comb 
their  hair ;  children  at  a  loss  to  find  out  what  they 
were  made  for ;  people  in  all  stages  of  intoxication,  in 
all  stages  of  desperation,  and  in  a  lank  and  gloomy 
fashion  in  all  stages  of  satisfaction,  all  set  off  by  a 
background  of  irregular  shop  windows  where  every- 
thing useful  or  rudely  and  glaringly  ornamental  was 
huddled  together  in  a  thoroughly  promiscuous  but  not 
thoroughly  picturesque  confusion. 

Oscar  hardly  spoke  from  the  time  they  left  the  hotel 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  183 

till  they  reached  the  railway  station,  where  they  placed 
their  horses  in  a  box  car,  seated  themselves  by  the 
open  door,  in  order  to  be  near  them  in  case  of  accident, 
and  the  mixed  train  started  for  the  south.  Then 
Charlie  laid  his  hand  on  Oscar's  knee,  remarking  : 

"  You're  pretty  blue,  my  boy,  and  I  don't  blame 
you." 

"  I  believe  I'm  a  little  homesick, v  he  replied,  and 
tried  to  smile,  but  his  lip  quivered  in  spite  of  him. 

Charlie  said  nothing  for  a  moment,  but  presently, 
leaning  back  against  the  side  of  the  door,  he  began  : 

"  It's  a  funny  thing,  but  I  think  a  fellow  never 
feels  half  so  much  alone  out  upon  a  prairie,  a  hundred 
miles  from  a  human  being,  as  he  does  in  such  a  place 
as  that.  They  do  make  a  fellow  homesick,  awfully 
homesick,  there's  no  mistake.  And  yet  there  is  some- 
thing about  them  that  you  come  to  like,  in  spite  of  it ; 
and  if  they  don't  please  you  themselves  they  do  spoil 
you  for  liking  city  life  in  the  East,  if  you  once  get 
accustomed  to  them.  In  college  I  was  crazy  over 
mining,  and  struck  out  for  Leadville  the  moment  I  had 
my  diploma  packed  away.  It  wasn't  very  ideal  there, 
now  I  tell  you,  and  I  came  up  to  the  Black  Hills  over 
the  same  path  that  we  shall  follow,  only  the  other 
way.  Well,  that  didn't  pan  out  for  me,  either. 
Everything  was  every  which  way,  and  nothing  as  it 
should  be.  I  lost  my  money  and  didn't  make  more. 
I  didn't  strike  it  anywhere,  even  to  grub  stakes,  say 


184  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 

nothing  of  millions.  Oh !  I  got  desperately  homesick, 
you  can  bet.  I  was  just  a  wreck.  I  couldn't  stand 
it  any  longer,  and  I  lit  out  for  Boston.  Before  I  was 
half-way  back,  however,  I  was  tired  of  seeing  every- 
thing so  law  and  order,  spink  and  span,  and  I  felt  like 
one  in  a  dream,  finding  himself  somewhere  where  he 
doesn't  want  to  be,  and  wondering  why  in  the  world 
he  came  there.  I  kept  on,  but  I  didn't  feel  right  and 
I  was  ashamed  of  myself  from  the  moment  I  landed. 
It  wasn't  the  place  for  me,  and  in  less  than  a  month  I 
borrowed  money  and  came  back.  A  trail  is  a  good 
enough  street  for  me,  and  my  six-shooter  is  better 
than  a  whole  squad  of  policemen.  I  have  made  money 
enough  since  then.  I've  corraled  quite  a  bunch  in 
Winnipeg,  and  rounded  up  a  good  lump  in  Boston, 
but  now  I  have  no  use  for  it.  I  very  much  doubt  if 
I  shall  ever  touch  it.  I  would  not  lie  awake  five  min- 
utes to  learn  that  the  whole  was  swept  away.  Look 
at  these  homestead  claims  we  are  passing.  See  those 
little  shanties,  ten  by  ten,  with  one  door  and  one  win- 
dow in  front,  a  roof  with  a  single  slant,  nine  feet  high 
in  front,  seven  behind,  and  a  chimney.  Stable's  the 
same,  only  without  the  chimney  and  window.  Maybe 
those  folks  are  sad,  but  if  they  are  it's  something 
wrong.  They  have  a  right  to  be  happy,  and  most  of 
them  are ;  but  I  reckon  you  could  not  say  so  much  of 
the  homestead  claims  staked  out  along  the  swell  streets 
of  Boston." 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT   FIELDS.  185 

They  found  these  homestead  claims  all  along  the 
banks  of  the  Red  River,  with  here  and  there  a  settle- 
ment of  more  or  less  importance,  which  had  sprung  up 
like  magic,  for  some  slight  excuse,  grown  like  a  weed 
in  the  warm  sun  of  future  promise,  often  come  to  a 
sudden  standstill,  when  the  promises  were  postponed, 
or  dropped  into  a  forlorn  collection  of  dilapidated  huts, 
half  of  them  deserted  and  already  falling  to  ruin, 
where  the  promises  had  failed  or  been  transferred  to 
some  other  locality.  It  did  not  require  much  time  or 
labor  to  build  up  a  settlement,  and  hundreds  were 
ready  to  undertake  it  if  there  seemed  to  be  a  future 
before  it.  There  was  not  much  of  real  value  to  leave 
behind,  and  the  hundreds  were  again  ready  to  leave  it 
the  moment  they  saw  a  brighter  outlook  somewhere 
else. 

Wheat  was  everywhere.  Every  little  claim  and 
larger  farm  was  raising  it.  They  were  entering  the 
great  wheat  fields  of  Dakota,  where  the  Sioux  and 
the  Chippewas  chased  the  buffalo  and  fought  each 
other  till  the  buffalo  ceased  to  be  altogether,  and  the 
Sioux  and  the  Chippewas  became  only  desperate,  iso- 
lated fragments  of  what  they  had  been,  and  the  Star 
of  Empire  came  and  stood  still  over  an  undeveloped 
country  where  summer  wheat  could  be  raised  ;  so  wide 
and  so  far  reaching  that  it  possesses  the  capacity  for 
supplying  the  whole  world  with  summer  wheat  for 
ages  to  come. 


180 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 


Large  and  small  farmhouses  constantly  increased. 
Piles  of  lumber  and  long  lines  of  farm  wagons  were 
at  every  station,  ploughs,  seeders,  reapers,  harrows, 
threshers,  were  waiting  to  be  carried  away  to  the 
farms. 

They  stopped  for  a  day  at  Casselton,  to  rest  their 
horses  before  starting  on  the  road  running  west,  which 


»  r 


A    KL'X   TO   THE   DALRYMPLE    FARM. 


would  carry  them  to  Bismarck,  where  they  were  again 
to  take  the  trail  for  the  Black  Hills. 

To  occupy  their  time  they  rode  out  to  that  world- 
famous  combination  of  four  gigantic  farms  which 
originated  under  the  shrewd  and  practical  manage* 
ment  of  Oliver  Dalrymple. 

The  town  itself  was  far  superior  to  Pembina,  with 
as  much  activity  and  much  more  system,  but  with  a 
carious  disproportion  between  the  large  wooden  stores 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  187 

and  the  homes  which  at  irregular  intervals  lay  along 
the  few  streets  stretching  out  over  the  level  plain.  It 
was  such  a  condition  as  might  in  a  few  years  produce 
a  rival  for  St.  Paul  or  Kansas  City,  or  might  in  less 
time  degenerate  to  a  freight  depot  and  a  few  crum- 
bling memorials  to  prospects  that  had  failed  to 
materialize. 

Oscar  and  Charlie  were  not  there  to  speculate  in 
real  estate,  however.  They  only  looked  about  them  to 
see  what  was  to  be  seen,  and  rode  away  to  the  great 
wheat  farm. 

"  I  worked  here  for  one  season,  while  I  was  making 
my  way  north,"  Charlie  said.  "  There  were  seventy- 
five  thousand  acres  then  under  cultivation,  and  I  pre- 
sume there's  twice  that  now.  It  was  surely  the  best- 
conducted  farm  in  the  world.  The  worked  part  was 
divided  into  quarters  and  each  quarter  was  a  separate 
division,  with  its  superintendent,  a  complete  set  of 
buildings  —  a  house  for  the  superintendent  and  a  big 
boarding-house  for  the  hands,  a  stable,  granary,  ma- 
chine shop  and  blacksmith's  shop.  It  is  just  a  reg- 
ular army,  divided  into  gangs  of  twenty  teams  with 
a  mounted  foreman  for  each  gang,  who  has  a  mounted 
staff  of  two  machinists  with  him.  I  have  forgotten 
how  many  hundred  horses  and  mules  are  employed, 
but  every  piece  of  farming  machinery  run  by  man, 
horse  or  steam,  that  is  any  good,  is  at  work  here." 

It  was  a  beautiful  day.     There  was  not  a  cloud  in 


188  THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 

the  sky  or  a  fence  or  hill  to  break  the  perfect  level  of 
the  prairie.  Far  away  to  the  south  the  course  of 
Maple  River  was  marked  by  a  dim  fringe  of  trees, 
but  in  every  other  direction  the  prairie  made  its  own 
horizon  line  against  the  sky.  The  divisions  could 
easily  be  distinguished  by  the  clusters  of  buildings,  and 
everywhere  gangs  were  at  work  as  they  rode  about 
watching  the  various  operations. 

"  It's  not  much  like  the  old  days  that  poets  wrote 
their  pastorals  about,  is  it?"  Charlie  asked.  "Why, 
I  can  remember  my  father  breaking  new  land  upon 
our  farm.  The  plough  was  made  by  the  village  car- 
penter and  blacksmith.  It  was  a  solid  oak  beam 
twelve  feet  long,  with  a  natural  wind  helped  out  by 
the  adze.  It  was  shod  with  cast-off  horseshoes  and 
any  old  bits  of  iron  we  could  save  up,  and  the  share 
was  a  strip  of  iron  tipped  with  steel.  They  would 
sometimes  hitch  in  six  yoke  of  oxen,  with  two  drivers, 
for  new  land.  Then  a  fellow  had  to  sit  on  the  beam 
to  keep  it  down  and  another  work  like  grim  death  to 
steer  it,  while  another  followed  behind  with  a  mattock 
to  turn  the  turf,  and  all  together,  if  they  had  good 
luck  and  almost  killed  themselves,  would  get  over  an 
acre  and  a  half  of  new  ground  in  a  day.  Now  just  look 
at  that  gang  in  the  new  ground  over  there.  There 
are  twenty  sulky  ploughs  in  a  line,  drawn  by  two  mules 
each.  Nobody  has  to  hold  them.  A  ten-year-old  boy 
could  drive  as  well  as  any  one.  They  are  going  at  a 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  189 

good  sharp  walk  and  ploughing  two  or  three  furrows 
each.  They  break  new  ground  that  way  this  month 
and  let  the  sod  lie  and  rot  till  fall.  Then  they  back- 
set it  and  harrow  it  with  machines  which  run  just  as 
easy,  and  leave  it  till  spring  when  it  is  ready  to  seed. 
They  put  in  the  seed,  sometimes,  as  early  as  the  middle 
of  March,  in  spite  of  the  cold  winters,  and  that  is  a 
great  sight,  too.  It  wouldn't  be  so  wonderful  to  you 
as  it  was  to  me,  for  when  I  was  a  boy  I  many  a  time 
tramped  along  the  furrows  dragging  a  chain  to  mark 
the  line  for  some  one  to  follow  with  a  big  basket 
strapped  to  him,  throwing  the  grain  right  and  left  and 
wasting  more  than  half  of  it  by  sowing  it  too  thick,  or 
where  it  got  covered  too  deep  or  lay  on  the  top  for  the 
birds.  All  that  these  fellows  do  is  to  put  the  seed 
into  boxes,  on  wheels,  regulated  to  scatter  it  just  as 
thickly  as  they  wish  and  absolutely  alike,  everywhere, 
and  cover  it  just  so  deep  every  time.  Then  with  a 
couple  of  good  horses  in  front  of  them  they  start  off 
for  all  day.  I  don't  know  but  the  harvesting  is  the 
greatest  thing,  after  all,  when  you  think  of  the  old 
sickles  and  cradles,  and  binding  sheaves  with  wisps  of 
straw  and  then  threshing  it  out  sometime  in  the  win- 
ter. On  this  farm  they  do  the  whole  thing  inside  of 
three  weeks.  They  take  four  mules  instead  of  two, 
for  the  machines  do  more  work,  and  the  extra  man 
walks  behind.  The  machine  cuts  the  grain  in  front 
of  it,  gathers  it  up  in  bundles,  twists  a  wire  about  it, 


190 


THROUGH   THE    WHEAT    FIELDS. 


binds  the  wire  and  tosses  the  sheaf  out  behind,  for 
the  man  who  is  following  to  set  up  to  ripen.  Then 
the  threshing  machine  is  put  to  work  and  turns  out  at 
least  seven  hundred  bushels  a  day,  works  night  and 


"THAT'S  WHAT  i  CALL  FARMING." 

day,  burns  up  the  straw  for  fuel,  and  the  work  is  all 
over  by  the  last  of  September." 

"That's  what  I  call  farming,"  Oscar  remarked,  as 
they  rode  back  to  take  the  night  train  to  Bismarck, 
where  they  replenished  their  outfit. 


THROUGH    THE    WHEAT    FIELDS.  191 

"  Did  you  see  that  Indian  boy.  watching  us  and  fol- 
lowing us  all  the  while  we  were  in  Bismarck?" 
Charlie  asked,  as  they  started  again  upon  the  trail. 

"  Watching  us  ?     Nonsense  !  "  Oscar  replied. 

"  No  ;  it  is  not,"  Charlie  insisted.  "  I  tried  to  call 
your  attention  to  him  two  or  three  times,  but  each 
time  he  vanished  before  I  got  a  chance.  Panza  knew 
him.  That  was  what  first  attracted  my  attention. 
She  was  trying  to  speak  to  him,  but  the  moment  I 
looked  he  turned  away.  I  remembered  seeing  him 
around  before,  and  I  saw  him  two  or  three  times 
afterward." 

"  Well,  if  Panza's  getting  to  make  friends  that  way, 
I'll  teach  her  better,"  Oscar  exclaimed. 

"  She  was  not  making  a  new  friend,  she  was  greet- 
ing an  old  one,"  Charlie  observed,  and  immediately 
changed  the  subject. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

A    DOUBTFUL  HOST. 

OSCAR  found  his  spirits  rising  again  the  moment 
the  open  country  lay  about  him,  though  the  path  was 
very  different  from  that  which  they  had  followed 
through  Manitoba.  It  was  more  a  wild  and  broken 
table  land.  The  stage  road,  with  its  established  sta- 
tions, was  not  so  well  patronized  as  it  had  been  when 
Bismarck  offered  the  nearest  railway  connection  to 
the  Black  Hills.  Thousands  upon  thousands  had 
been  over  that  trail,  but  the  thousands  had  dwindled 
now  to  a  very  few,  and  with  the  decrease  trouble 
from  restless  Indians  had  increased.  In  the  busy 
days  only  an  occasional  stage  that  chanced  to  be  alone, 
or  an  isolated  party,  was  ever  disturbed  by  highway- 
men. Everything  was  isolated  and  solitary,  now,  and 
as  the  result  an  attempt  at  least  was  made  to  hold 
up  pretty  much  everything  that  went  over  the  road. 
Little  by  little  the  road  agents  had  been  shot  off, 
captured  or  driven  away,  or  had  left  on  account  of 

192 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  193 

dull  business ;  but  the  few  that  remained  had  baffled 
every  attempt  to  trace  them,  and  had  been  growing 
more  and  more  daring  and  desperate. 

There  was  another  trail,  more  of  an  Indian  trail, 
that  was  shorter,  leading  very  direct  to  Deadwood, 
through  the  badlands  and  reservations,  and  the  coun- 
try that  had  recently  been  opened.  It  occasionally 
touched  the  sfcage  route,  and  a  part  of  the  way  was  the 
same. 

There  was  little  prospect  of  their  having  company 
by  either  trail,  and  considering  that  the  advantages 
offered  by  occasional  stage  houses  were  less  than  the 
disadvantages  of  running  into  road  agents  as  well  as 
having  more  miles  to  go,  they  chose  the  shorter  trail. 

They  were  not  disappointed  in  the  prospect  of  be- 
ing alone.  Indians  occasionally  passed  them,  but 
seemed  to  be  peaceful  enough,  and  after  they  were  be- 
yond the  immediate  influence  of  the  outlying  farms 
and  ranches  of  Bismarck,  which  were  very  few  on 
that  side  of  the  river,  they  saw  no  signs  of  life  except 
the  omnipresent  prairie  dog  and  his  associates. 

As  they  sat  before  a  fire  cooking  a  rabbit  which 
Panza  had  brought  in,  Charlie  remarked  :  "  If  we 
don't  strike  larger  game  than  this  to-morrow  we  shall 
have  to  tie  up  and  go  hunt  for  it.  We're  not  likely 
to  strike  many  restaurant  stations  on  this  road,  and 
the  beans  and  flour  and  bacon  in  the  pack  will  give 
out  before  we  get  to  Deadwood,  without  help." 


194 


A    DOUBTFUL   HOST. 


*'  Don't  forget  the  box  of  crackers,"  Oscar  said. 

"  No  ;  I  sha'n't  forget  that  when  I  am  hungry,  I 
tell  you,"  Charlie  replied,  with  a  laugh. 

It    was   growing   dark,    and   they   were   anxiously 
watching  for  some  favorable 
place  to  spend  the  night,  when 
Panza  began  to  show  decided 
signs  of   disturbance. 

"  What  has  she  struck  now, 
I  wonder  ?  "  Charlie  said,  dis- 


OLD  SET: LEES. 


mounting  and  taking  the  lead  line,  to  set  her  at 
liberty. 

"Something  has  been  along  there  that  she  don't 
like ;  that's  all,"  Oscar  remarked  carelessly. 

"Well,  the  question  is,  what  was  it?"  Charlie  re- 
plied ;  "  for  there  is  an  even  chance  that  it  may  have 
been  something  that  I  don't  like,  either,  and  it  is  get- 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  195 

ting  too  near  dark  for  that.  This  trail  is  so  heavy 
and  dry  that  I  can't  see  a  track.  Hold  on !  She's 
struck  it  again  in  the  dust.  Oh !  it's  nothing  but  a 
wolf." 

"  No ;  it  is  not  a  wolf,"  Oscar  said,  examining  the 
track  which  Charlie  had  found.  "  It's  a  dog,  Charlie. 
I  know  a  wolf's  tracks  —  I  examined  them  carefully 
in  the  snow,  that  day  up  in  the  woods  with  father,  so 
that  I  should  be  able  to  tell  them  from  Panza.  A 
wolf's  foot  is  larger  and  spreads  out  more,  and  has 
sharper  claws.  See?  These  are  not  so  large  as 
Panza's.  It's  a  dog ;  an  Indian  dog.  That's  what's 
the  matter  with  her.  Do  you  suppose  there  are 
Indians  round  ? "  he  added,  with  a  quick,  nervous 
glance  about  him. 

"  There'll  be  Indians  round  all  the  way  to  Dead- 
wood.  Bother  their  painted  hides !  "  Charlie  muttered. 
"  But  the  dog  is  as  likely  to  belong  to  a  squatter  as 
to  a  red  skin.  At  all  events,  I  should  like  to  find 
out  before  we  unsaddle.  Put  Panza  on  the  track,  and 
let's  see  where  it  goes,  but  stop  her  quick  if  she  strikes 
toward  the  rocky  land  to  the  west." 

Panza  did  not  much  fancy  being  put  to  trail  an- 
other dog,  but  when  she  realized  that  it  must  be  done 
she  led  away,  and  after  they  had  followed  for  half  a 
mile  they  discovered  a  low  building,  just  where  the 
stage  route  and  the  trail  met  for  the  second  time.  It 
was  the  first  sod  house  which  Oscar  had  ever  seen. 


196  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

It  was  larger  than  a  log  cabin,  low  and  long,  with 
walls  of  sods,  laid  like  bricks,  and  the  roof  of  sods, 
supported  on  corner  posts  and  cross  bars.  There  was 
one  door  and  one  window  visible,  a  stone  chimney 
built  outside,  and  an  empty  powder  keg  on  top. 

"A  squatter,"  Charlie  muttered. 

"  We're  in  luck,  then,"  Oscar  said. 

"  We're  liable  to  be,"  Charlie  replied  ;  "  but  it  de- 
pends a  good  deal  on  who  and  what  the  squatter  is. 
You  stay  here  with  the  pack  and  Panza  and  I'll  go  up 
and  find  out." 

He  had  not  been  gone  long  when  the  savage  bark- 
ing of  a  dog  sounded,  and  Panza  looked  up  with  a 
low  growl  which  very  plainly  said,  "  I  told  you  so." 
Then  the  door  opened,  and  a  moment  later  Charlie 
called  and  Oscar  rode  up  to  the  cabin. 

The  squatter  still  stood  in  the  door  with  a  heavy 
double-barreled  gun  under  his  arm.  He  was  a  power- 
ful man,  with  grizzled  and  bushy  beard  and  a  mass  of 
long  and  tangled  gray  hair.  His  motions  were  dull 
and  slow,  but  even  in  the  fading  twilight  it  was  easy 
to  see  that  the  eyes  were  quick  and  keen. 

He  did  not  seem  particularly  glad  to  see  them  or  even 
passably  civil,  and  had  Oscar  expressed  an  opinion,  it 
would  have  been  to  stand  upon  his  dignity  and  take 
his  blanket  out  upon  the  open  prairie ;  but  seeing 
Charlie  making  the  best  of  things  as  he  found  them, 
he  quietly  followed  his  example. 


A   DOUBTFUL   HOST.  197 

The  end  of  the  sod  house  was  a  stable.  The  squat- 
ter silently  led  the  way,  unlocked  the  door  and  sullenly 
stood  there  while  they  unsaddled  their  horses,  fed  and 
watered  them  and  found  places  for  them  out  of  reach 
of  the  heels  of  two  mules  which  were  already  stabled 
there.  When  all  was  ready  for  the  night  Charlie  took 
a  box  of  ammunition  and  a  piece  of  bacon  from  the 
pack  saddle,  and  the  squatter  locked  the  door  behind 
them  as  they  came  out. 

It  was  evident  to  Oscar  that  there  was  something 
seriously  out  of  order  in  their  present  position. 
Charlie  did  not  speak  a  word  to  him,  but  kept  singing 
snatches  of  cowboy  songs,  and  when  he  spoke  to  the 
squatter  it  was  in  a  tone  and  dialect  which  Oscar 
could  hardly  imagine  as  pertaining,  in  any  way,  to  his 
friend  of  a  half -hour  before. 

There  was  a  large  trough  at  the  stable  door,  sup- 
plied by  an  artesian  well.  As  they  passed  it  Charlie 
said,  "  Make  a  good  livin'  outer  this  hole  in  the  ground, 
waterin'  stage  bosses?" 

The  old  man  grunted,  for  all  the  world  like  an 
Indian. 

"They  tell  me  biz  hes  lit  out  some,  frum  these 
parts,"  Charlie  added,  and  the  squatter  gave  a  savage 
grunt. 

"  Bottom  fell  clean  out,  or  will  she  strike  a  fresh 
vein  later  on  ? "  Charlie  asked ;  and  the  squatter 
shrugged  his  broad  shoulders  and  answered  with  an 


198  A   DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

Indian's  grunt  of  uncertainty,  as  he  led  the  way  into 
the  cabin,  leaning  his  gun  against  the  wall  just  inside 
the  door.  Charlie  set  his  rifle  down  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  door,  and  Oscar  followed  his  example. 

The  only  light  in  the  room  came  from  a  fire  which 
had  recently  been  kindled.  The  only  occupant  was 
an  Indian  squaw  seated  on  the  floor  before  it,  prepar- 
ing some  supper  for  the  guests,  and  the  dog,  skulking 
away  in  one  corner,  savagely  grumbling  at  Panza's 
presence  there. 

Charlie  handed  the  box  to  Oscar,  and  walking 
across  the  room  hung  the  bacon  upon  a  nail  in  the 
rafter  near  the  fire,  at  the  same  time  saying :  "  The 
kid's  got  a  box  o'  gun-fodder  there.  I  s'pose  ye  kin 
make  it  work  in  somewhere  ?  " 

The  squatter  grunted.  Oscar  laid  the  box  on  the 
table. 

"  How's  shootin'  in  these  parts,  pard  ?"  Charlie  asked. 

"  Good  'nough  ter  what  et  mought  be,"  the  fellow 
muttered,  as  he  scraped  out  an  old  pipe. 

Charlie  tossed  a  piece  of  tobacco  on  the  table, 
pushed  a  stool  into  a  convenient  position  with  his  foot, 
and  sat  down,  leaning  back  against  a  tier  of  bunks 
and  balancing  his  feet  on  the  table,  as  he  continued, 
"  Fact  is  we're  flyin'  light  for  fresh,  an'  ef  ye've  got 
a  good  buck  handy,  that  we  could  drop  'out  gittiii'  our 
scalps  lifted,  'twould  stock  up  the  larder  in  good 
shape." 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  199 

The  squatter  bobbed  his  head  in  acknowledgment  of 
thci  tobacco,  which  was  more  than  he  had  done  for  the 
bacon  or  ammunition,  and  while  he  cut  and  prepared 
a  pipeful  of  it  replied :  "  Injins  is  everywhar,  an' 
fightin'  drunk.  I  don't  make  no  promises  'bout  scalps ; 
but  arter  grub  we  kin  go  up  a  piece  an'  scoop  some 
deer  on  shares." 

Charlie  took  his  turn  at  grunting,  and  stuffing  his 
hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  threw  his  head  back 
against  the  bunk  and  began  to  whistle. 

Oscar  was  thoroughly  perplexed,  but  realizing  that 
it  was  a  game  of  grave  importance  which  Charlie  was 
playing,  he  did  his  best  to  follow  the  lead,  and  made 
himself  thoroughly  at  home.  Not  knowing  what  it 
would  be  best  to  say,  he  very  wisely  said  nothing.  For 
some  minutes  he  sat  watching  the  curious  picture,  and 
all  the  time  not  a  word  was  spoken  in  the  sod  house. 
Charlie  was  whistling  and  dreaming,  with  his  eyes 
apparently  shut,  as  though  he  were  alone  in  the  uni- 
verse. The  squatter  puffed  upon  his  pipe  and  drowsily 
watched  the  clouds  of  smoke  as  though  no  living  thing 
were  near  him.  The  fire  crackled  and  the  frying  pan 
and  kettle  bubbled  and  hissed,  while  the  squaw  watched 
them,  apparently  unconscious  that  there  was  a  mortal 
behind  her.  Only  Pauza  and  the  yellow  Indian  dog 
seemed  not  to  have  forgotten  each  other's  existence. 
Now  and  then  a  whining  snarl  would  come  from 
under  a  bunk  in  the  distant  corner,  and  in  response 


200  A     DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

Oscar  heard  Panza,  lying  beside  his  stool,  give  her 
chops  a  quick,  savage  lap,  and  the  click  of  her  teeth 
as  her  jaws  came  together  again. 

Oscar  began  to  dream,  himself.  A  curious  atmos- 
phere pervaded  the  sod  house,  in  which  each  occupant 
seemed  too  deeply  engrossed  in  his  own  problems  to 
be  aware  of  anything  else.  Oscar  gave  up  trying 
to  understand  the  situation  and  began  to  recall  old 
marchen  stories,  with  the  squaw  before  the  fire  for  the 
witch,  and  the  grizzled  squatter  a  grim  giant,  waiting 
to  have  his  table  spread  with  victims.  The  longer  he 
thought  of  it  the  more  real  it  grew,  till  it  seemed  to 
him  that  he  and  Charlie  were  the  little  mortals  who 
had  fallen  into  the  giant's  clutches  and  were  about 
to  be  served  on  his  table.  There  are  people  —  who 
really  know  no  more  about  it  than  other  people  —  who 
will  say  that  it  was  a  wave  of  thought-power  creeping 
over  him  from  an  intense  mental  activity,  any  outward 
expression  of  which  the  two  men  before  him  were  so 
successfully  concealing,  which  was  really  going  on  be- 
hind the  whistling  and  the  smoking.  At  all  events 
the  dream  had  its  effect  upon  Oscar.  It  made  an  im- 
pression which  did  not  wear  away,  but  influenced  his 
actions  throughout  the  evening  and  even  longer. 

At  last  the  squaw  broke  the  spell  with  a  grunt 
which  signified  that  her  preparations  for  supper  were 
complete.  She  rose  from  the  fire,  and  Charlie  brought 
his  feet  down  from  the  table,  remarking,  as  if  in 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  201 

answer  to  the  last  words  of  the  squatter,  "  I  don't  lie 
awake  nights  spoilin'  fur  a  fight  with  red  skins  nor 
white  stuff,  nuther,  but  'twould  take  a  stiffer  breeze 
nor  has  blow'd  so  fur  ter  snow  Mountain  Charlie  in, 
ef  it  cum  ter  straight  biz." 

The  surly  host  made  no  reply,  but  stuffing  his  pipe 
in  his  pocket  pushed  his  chair  to  the  table  with  his 
foot.  Oscar  did  not  wait  for  an  invitation,  but  gave 
his  stool  a  shove  and  lounged  along  after  it  in  a  way 
that  won  a  glance  of  hearty  approval  from  Charlie. 

For  a  squatter's  sod  house,  with  a  squaw  at  the 
helm,  the  supper  was  decidedly  good.  They  all  ate 
heartily,  helping  themselves,  without  invitation  or  cere- 
mony, with  their  own  knives  and  forks.  The  moment 
he  had  finished,  the  squatter  lit  his  pipe  again,  spoke 
to  his  dog,  took  up  his  gun  and  bobbed  his  head 
toward  the  door  as  he  opened  it,  by  way  of  indicating 
that  he  was  ready  to  start.  Charlie  deliberately 
stretched,  yawned  and  replied  : 

"  Kid's  goin'.  He  kin  knock  the  head  off  a  pin 
fur's  he  kin  see  it.  Two's  'nough  fur  deer.  One's 
none  too  many  ter  hang  round  sech  hoss-flesh  as  our'n." 

A  frown  shot  across  the  squatter's  forehead.  An 
involuntary  motion  of  his  hand  toward  the  door  showed 
very  plainly  that  his  first  intention  was  to  close  it  and 
abandon  the  hunt.  Without  seeing  through  it  Oscar 
realized  that  their  host  was  in  a  disagreeable  box, 
where  Charlie  had  intentionally  placed  him.  He 


202  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

covered  it  well,  however,  and  a  moment  later  mut- 
tered :  "  Good  'nough !  Come  on,  youngster,"  and 
started. 

"  Better  leave  yer  dorg  behind,"  Charlie  called  to 
Oscar  as  he  turned  to  follow  him.  "  She  don't  hitch 
hosses  with  t'other  one." 

The  hint  was  enough.  Oscar  went  out  alone,  with 
his  strange  companion.  He  was  not  particularly 
alarmed  for  his  personal  safety,  for  he  had  unlimited 
confidence  in  Charlie,  who  evidently  grasped  the  situ- 
ation and  knew  what  he  was  about ;  but  he  was  only  a 
boy  of  sixteen,  after  all,  and  this  was  his  first  experi- 
ence of  frontier  life.  There  was  something  uncanny 
about  it,  at  the  least,  that  constantly  recalled  the 
giant  and  his  feast. 

The  man  went  to  the  stable,  took  out  one  of  the 
mules,  and  with  the  lead  line  over  his  shoulder  and 
the  dog  at  his  heels  started  for  the  rough  land  rising 
in  broken  buttes  and  low  hills  and  knolls  a  little  dis- 
tance to  the  west.  He  had  already  disclosed  the  fact 
that  he  was  not  an  expert  conversationalist.  Oscar 
expected  nothing,  and  having  enough  to  do  on  his  own 
account  without  talking,  he  did  not  try  to  tempt  him. 

They  went  on  in  absolute  silence  till  the  dog  began 
to  sniff  in  a  suggestive  way,  when  the  squatter  at 
once  tethered  the  mule,  and  leaving  the  dog  beside 
it  struck  a  more  cautious  pace  and  crept  onward,  fol- 
lowed closely  by  Oscar.  A  moment  later  he  dropped 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  203 

upon  his  hands  and  knees  and  Oscar  followed  his 
example. 

The  moon  rose  without  a  cloud,  making  the  smooth 
surfaces  almost  as  distinct  as  by  day,  while  the 
shadows  seemed  all  the  blacker  in  contrast.  They 
were  creeping  toward  a  fantastic  pile  of  bowlders,  sur- 
rounded by  scraggy  cedars,  upon  the  brow  of  a  butte, 
and  as  they  climbed  higher,  Hearing  the  summit,  a 
grand  scene  beyond  gradually  unfolded  before  Oscar's 
eyes.  Wild  and  magnificent  Nature  stretched  away  in 
an  opening  panorama  so  sublime  that,  forgetting  every- 
thing else,  he  stopped  more  than  once  to  admire  it. 

Beyond  the  bowlders  a  hill  evidently  fell  away  into 
a  ravine,  neither  of  which  could  be  seen,  as  yet,  but 
beyond  them  stretched  snow-white  ledges  and  black 
gorges,  out  of  which  came  the  rumbling  of  cascades, 
and  here  and  there  a  cloud  of  mist  rose  like  white 
smoke  in  the  moonlight,  marking  some  headlong 
plunge  which  the  stream  was  making  among  the  rocks. 

A  few  feet  more  and  they  were  crouching  behind 
the  bowlders.  As  Oscar  gained  his  feet  the  squatter 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  It  was  only  to  point 
through  a  cleft  in  the  rocks,  but  it  sent  a  cold  shudder 
over  him  —  as  though  the  man  had  stabbed  him  with 
a  knife — and  for  an  instant  the  marchen  picture 
flashed  before  him  again.  He  was  ashamed  of  it,  and 
resolutely  turned  and  looked  through  the  cleft  at  a 
sight  to  thrill  a  sportsman's  heart. 


204  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

In  a  smooth  slope,  only  broken  by  a  few  moss- 
covered  bowlders,  the  hillside  stretched  down  into  a 
deep  valley.  The  silvery  moss  and  dew-covered  grass 
gleamed  in  the  moonlight,  and  wherever  his  eye  rested 
over  the  entire  knoll,  dark  heads  were  thrust  up  above 
the  grass,  broad  ears  were  turned  full  toward  the 
bowlders,  delicate  pointed  noses  were  sniffing  suspi- 
ciously, and  in  the  immediate  foreground,  less  than  a 
hundred  feet  away  and  not  twenty  feet  apart,  two 
magnificent  pairs  of  antlers,  looking  as  if  they  were 
crusted  with  snow,  tossed  in  the  moonlight  above  the 
heads  of  two  large  bucks,  suddenly  roused  from  sleep 
by  some  suspicious  sound  or  odor  beyond  the  bowlders. 

It  was  such  a  sight  as  Oscar  had  never  seen  before, 
and  might  well  have  obliterated  everything  else  for 
the  moment,  at  least.  Even  while  he  looked  Oscar 
wondered  that  it  did  not  absorb  his  entire  attention, 
and  that /he  turned,  almost  instantly,  to  look  back  at 
the  man  beside  him.  He  wondered,  while  he  was 
doing  it,  that,  instead  of  preparing  at  once  to  fire, 
where  he  was,  he  motioned  the  squatter  to  keep  the 
place,  while  he  quickly  and  noiselessly  crept  away  to 
the  farther  end  of  the  bowlder,  keeping  his  eyes  more 
intently  upon  his  companion  than  upon  the  deer.  He 
was  certainly  acting  more  upon  instinct  than  reason, 
but  if  the  most  profound  reasoning  is  not  founded  on 
instinct  it  is  in  great  danger  of  leading  even  the  wisest 
men  astray. 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  205 

Upon  the  side  of  the  rock  which  he  approached  the 
bowlder  shelved  in  at  the  bottom,  leaving  a  deep 
crevice,  absolutely  black,  under  its  shadow.  The 
change  of  position  had  required  but  a  moment.  Not 
a  deer  had  risen  from  the  moss.  Oscar  could  easily 
have  started  them  and  fired  from  where  he  stood,  look- 
ing over  the  edge  of  the  bowlder,  but  all  the  time  his 
thoughts  were  bent  upon  something  else  which  he  did 
not  himself  begin  to  comprehend.  As  his  eyes  fell 
upon  the  black  shelter  under  the  rock,  he  slipped 
down  into  it  with  a  sigh  of  relief  and  muttered :  "  All 
ready.  Start  them  up." 

There  was  no  need.  The  sound  of  his  voice  was 
quite  sufficient.  The  two  bucks  were  on  their  feet  in 
an  instant.  Taking  the  one  nearest  his  end  of  the 
rock,  Oscar  only  waited  for  him  to  turn  for  a  fair 
position,  and  fired. 

Many  a  wonderful  story  has  been  told  of  the  amount 
which  the  brain  can  accomplish  in  dreams,  in  a  mo- 
ment's time ;  but  there  is  something  much  more  won- 
derful in  the  amount  which  a  wide-awake  brain  can 
accomplish,  if  put  to  the  test  and  all  that  it  does  is 
traced. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  Oscar  had  made 
a  moonlight  shot  at  a  deer.  It  required  a  cool  head 
and  a  steady  hand.  He  saw  the  deer  leap  and  drop, 
and  knew  that  he  had  killed  him.  All  over  the  hill- 
side he  saw  others  springing  to  their  feet,  and  thought 


206  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

how  easily  a  band  of  Indians  instead  of  deer,  might 
have  lain  hidden  there  till  one  had  walked  right  into 
the  midst  of  them.  He  knew  he  had  not  heard  his 
companion's  gun,  and  to  see  if  they  had  possibly  fired 
at  the  same  instant  he  glanced  at  the  other  buck,  just 
turning  away  with  a  bound,  and  knew  that  he  had  not 
fired  at  all.  His  ear  caught  a  faint  sound,  as  if  a 
twig  ci'acked  behind  him.  Without  looking  he  knew 
what  it  meant,  and  his  rifle  was  empty.  He  remem- 
bered a  statement  Charlie  had  made  way  back  in 
Manitoba,  that  one  rarely  needed  a  six-shooter,  even 
upon  the  plains,  but  when  he  did  he  needed  it  quicker 
than  lightning  and  sure  to  a  pinhead.  He  thought 
how  he  had  practiced  the  cowboy's  art  of  pulling  a 
six-shooter,  cocking  and  firing  all  in  one  motion.  He 
remembered  that  he  was  sheltered  by  the  shadow  of 
the  bowlder  and  that  as  long  as  he  kept  in  it  he  had 
at  least  that  protection.  All  this  flashed  through  his 
mind  and,  careful  that  his  pistol  did  not  strike  the 
rock,  he  caught  it  from  his  belt  and  cocked  it  as  he 
turned,  like  a  flash,  exclaiming : 

"  That'll  do,  now !  Drop  that  gun  or  I'll  fire  !  " 
It  was  all  so  quickly  done  that  as  he  stood  with  his 
revolver  leveled  at  the  crouching  form  of  the  burly 
squatter,  saw  the  big  double-barreled  gun  for  an  in- 
stant aimed  at  him,  then  dropped  to  the  squatter's 
knee,  he  noticed  the  smoke  of  his  own  rifle  drifting 
above  the  fellow's  head. 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  207 

With  a  grunt  the  squatter  muttered  :  "  You  there  ! 
I  couldn't  see  nuthin'  an'  I  mought  'a'  blowed  daylight 
through  ye,  drawin'  on  that  buck.  Wall,  he's  went, 
now,  an'  ye  kin  give  me  half  o'  your'n  fur  gittin'  in 
my  way.  Yer'd  better  go  down  thar  lively  an'  cut  his 
throat,  ter  let  him  bleed." 

Oscar  was  perplexed.  He  knew  very  well  that  the 
man  was  aiming  at  him,  and  would  have  fired  before 
if  he  had  seen  him,  yet  it  was  quite  possible  that  he 
was  simply  crazy.  He  could  not  think  of  any  other 
reason  for  his  shooting  him.  At  all  events,  there  was 
no  sense  in  discussing  the  matter,  so  he  simply  said : 
"  You  can  do  that  better  than  I.  You  are  more  used 
to  it.  Drop  that  roer  of  yours  and  go  down  to  the 
deer."  The  man's  only  response  was  to  clutch  the 
gun  more  firmly.  He  even  made  a  slight  motion,  as 
though  he  were  ready  to  throw  it  to  his  shoulder  again. 
Oscar  took  one  quick  step  forward,  bringing  his  pistol 
into  the  light,  saying  sharply,  "  Drop  it !  and  do  as  I 
tell  you,  or  I'll"  - 

"  Put  up  yer  shootin'-irons  !  "  the  fellow  shouted  sav- 
agely, throwing  his  gun  on  the  ground.  "  I'll  cut  the 
buck's  throat  fur  ye,  an'  yours,  too,  ef  et'll  'blege  ye  any." 

"  Not  to-night,  thank  you,"  Oscar  replied.  "  I  am 
not  so  sure  of  you  as  I  might  be,  but  I  am  sure  of 
this  shooter ;  and  from  now  till  we  reach  your  cabin 
it  is  going  to  cover  your  heart.  Do  you  understand? 
It  goes  off  mighty  easy,  and  if  you  make  one  false 


I 
208  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 


move  I  shall  pull  the  trigger,  and  pull  it  quick.  Hurry 
up,  now !  " 

Without  another  word  the  squatter  moved  slowly 
toward  the  deer,  drawing  his  hunting  knife  as  he 
walked,  and  running  his  thumb  along  the  blade  with 
a  suggestive  grunt. 

Oscar  picked  up  the  gun  and  his  rifle,  leaning  them 
against  the  rock,  keeping  his  eye  carefully  upon  the 
squatter,  when  he  heard  a  low  whisper  pronounce  his 
name.  With  a  start  which  betrayed  his  strained 
nerves  and  showed  how  thoroughly  frightened  he 
really  was,  in  spite  of  his  calmness,  he  looked  over  his 
shoulder  to  see  Charlie  with  Panza  at  his  heels,  creep- 
ing from  behind  the  shrubbery. 

Grasping  Oscar's  left  hand  he  whispered  in  his  ear  : 
"You  did  that  nobly,  old  fellow.  I  was  afraid  he'd 
cook  up  something,  so  I  followed  close  behind.  I  had 
a  bead  on  him,  but  I  waited  for  him  to  put  his  gun  to 
his  shoulder  to  be  sure.  I  was  just  touching  the  trig- 
ger when  you  spoke  and  he  flopped.  I  never  fired  at 
a  white  man  yet,  and,  thank  God,  I  didn't  have  to 
begin  to-night.  I  tell  you,  you  did  that  fine." 

"  Are  the  horses  safe  ?  "  Oscar  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  reckon  so,"  Charlie  replied.  "  I  only  told  the 
squaw  that  I  was  going  out  to  watch  round  the  place  ; 
and  he  has  the  key  in  his  pocket.  Keep  your  eye  on 
him  for  a  minute  more.  I'll  come  up  from  the  other 
side.  Don't  act  as  though  anything  had  happened." 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  209 

Ckarlie  disappeared,  and  Oscar  leaned  against  the 
bowlder,  with  the  pistol  still  in  his  hand  ;  but  his 
hand  was  trembling  so  that  he  could  scarcely  keep  it 
from  falling.  Help  had  come  lifting  the  burden  from 
his  shoulders,  and  he  suddenly  realized  that  he  was 
only  a  boy  of  sixteen,  after  all,  frightened  almost  out 
of  his  senses. 

If  he  had  stopped  to  consider  the  two  sides  of  him- 
self portrayed  in  the  last  five  minutes,  under  the 
shadow  of  that  rock,  he  would  have  found  an  explana- 
tion of  the  peculiar  condition  he  had  described  to 
Charlie  on  the  Manitoba  prairie,  and  have  realized 
why  the  best  scholar  dreads  the  examination,  the  best 
sailor  the  storm,  the  best  bronco  buster  the  unruly 
colt,  and  the  best  Indian  hunter  the  red  man,  for  he 
would  have  seen  a  boy,  who,  in  an  emergency,  faced 
down  the  giant  squatter  and  his  double-barreled  roer, 
shaking  like  a  leaf  at  the  very  sight  of  the  unarmed 
man,  kneeling  with  his  back  toward  him,  a  hundred 
feet  away. 

Oscar  was  not  philosophizing  at  that  moment,  how- 
ever. He  was  upbraiding  himself  for  being  a  coward, 
struggling  to  stop  his  hand  trembling,  pressing  his  knees 
against  the  rock  to  keep  them  from  shaking,  vacantly 
staring  at  the  squatter  while  he  cleaned  the  deer,  cut- 
ting away  the  waste  parts  and  angrily  muttering :  "  He 
could  cut  my  throat  with  a  feather  if  he  should  come 
back  and  try.  I  wish  Charlie  would  hurry  up." 


210  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

Suddenly  the  Indian  dog  began  to  bark  in  short, 
sharp  yelps.  In  an  instant  the  squatter  was  upon  his 
feet,  and  turning  toward  the  bowlder  said :  "  Them's 
In j ins  !  Gimme  my  gun  !  " 

"  Indians  !  "  The  word  sent  a  cold  shiver  through 
Oscar's  relaxed  muscles  ;  but  in  spite  of  what  he  had 
been  saying  of  himself  his  fingers  tightened  about  the 
revolver.  His  wrist  and  arm  were  strong  and  steady. 
He  stood  as  firmly  on  his  feet  as  ever  in  his  life,  and 
calmly  and  sternly  replied  :  "  You  stay  where  you  are  ! 
I  can  empty  your  gun  as  well  as  you  can." 

"  Ef  they  lift  your  scalp  'tain't  none  o'  my  funeral," 
he  muttered,  and  at  that  moment  Charlie's  voice 
sounded  in  a  boisterous  "  Halloo !  "  as  he  came  over 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  leading  the  mule. 

"  Is  that  all  you've  struck,  pard  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  thought  ye  must  'a'  hit  out  a  schooner  load  an' 
wus  waitin'  fur  help.  Whar's  the  kid?  " 

"  Watchin'  out,"  muttered  the  squatter,  bobbing  his 
head  in  the  direction  of  the  bowlder. 

While  Charlie  and  the  squatter  were  placing  the 
deer  on  the  mule's  back  Oscar  removed  the  cartridges 
from  the  double-barrel,  loaded  his  own  and  joined  the 
rest  as  though  he  had  really  been  on  guard  for  Indians. 

Sullen  and  silent  as  usual  the  squatter  led  the  way 
back  to  the  sod  house,  with  the  lead  line  over  one 
shoulder  and  the  empty  gun  over  the  other.  His  dog 
kept  at  his  heels,  snarling  every  time  he  caught  sight 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  211 

of  Panza.  Charlie  walked  beside  him,  making  an  oc- 
casional remark,  and  Oscar  followed  a  few  feet  be- 
hind the  mule,  his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  but  cocked 
and  ready  to  be  brought  into  position  on  the  slightest 
provocation.  Panza  brought  up  the  rear. 

All  was  safe  at  the  stable,  and  seeing  the  door 
locked  again  they  entered  the  house.  The  fire  burned 
low.  The  squaw  sat  on  the  floor  before  it.  A  candle, 
stuck  in  the  neck  of  a  bottle,  stood  on  the  table.  The 
squatter  left  his  roer  as  before,  beside  the  door,  but 
Charlie  kept  his  rifle  in  his  hand,  and  walking  across 
the  room  threw  it  into  an  upper  bunk  directly  opposite 
the  door,  following  it  himself  without  taking  off  his 
boots.  "  Hop  up  in  the  top  one,  kid,"  he  said  to 
Oscar,  pointing  to  bunks  nearer  the  fire,  and  turned 
over  as  though  he  meant  to  be  asleep  in  an  instant. 

Oscar  took  his  rifle  as  Charlie  had,  and  was  very 
glad  that  it  occurred  to  Panza  to  follow  him,  and  lie 
on  the  outside  edge  of  the  bunk.  He  did  not  believe 
that  he  should  be  able  to  shut  his  eyes  all  night,  but 
there  vva^  a  sense  of  security  in  the  big  shaggy  form 
and  regular  breathing  of  Panza,  and  the  next  thing 
Oscar  knew  Charlie  was  saying,  in  a  sharp,  decided 
way,  "  Look  a-here,  pard,  ef  yer  goin'  ter  take  a  look 
at  yer  mules,  I  reckon  me  an'  the  kid'll  have  a  squint 
at  our  hosses,  same  lick." 

Oscar  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant,  and  out  of  his 
bunk  ready  for  action,  almost  as  soon  as  Charlie.  It 


212  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

was  still  dark,  but  he  could  distinguish  the  burly  form 
of  the  squatter  by  the  door,  with  his  boots  in  one  hand 
and  gun  in  the  other. 

"  Hain't  no  great  need  o'  turnin'  the  hull  camp  in- 
side out,"  he  replied,  laying  down  his  gun.  "  Thought 
I  heered  a  sound  as  mought  be  Injins.  But  ef  ye're 
so  anxious  to  do  the  lookin'  fur  yerselves,  why,  I'll 
turn  in  ag'in." 

"Ef  it's  Injins,  pard,  yer  kin  rest  easy.  We've 
got  a  cur  along  as  hates  'um  like  pizen,  an'  smells  'um 
a  mile  away  ag'in'  the  wind.  But  I  say,  pard,"  Charlie 
added,  lighting  a  match  and  looking  at  his  watch,  "  ef 
the  sun's  on  time  this  morning  she'll  be  along  in  an 
hour.  Jest  shy  over  the  key  afore  ye  drop  off,  an' 
we'll  be  fixin'  up  ter  light  out." 

The  mere  rude  frontier  combination  of  dialects 
which  Charlie  had  assumed  was  so  thoroughly  consist- 
ent with  the  surroundings,  that  after  his  first  surprise 
Oscar  could  easily  have  forgotten  that  it  was  not  his 
natural  mode,  and  could  very  easily  have  fallen  into  it 
himself ;  but  what  won  his  constant  surprise  and  ad- 
miration was  the  cool  and  dictatorial  way  in  which 
Charlie  deliberately  took  the  management  of  every- 
thing into  his  own  hands.  There  was  nothing  in  his 
tone  or  manner  that  could  provoke  such  a  reply  as  the 
squatter  had  made  to  Oscar,  when  he  ordered  him  to 
cut  the  deer's  throat,  yet  with  every  sentence  there 
was  something  which  said  as  plainly  as  a  loaded  six- 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  213 

shooter,  "  This  must  be  done,  and  done  quickly,  or" 
—  and  it  was  done. 

The  old  fellow  threw  the  key  on  the  table,  gave  the 
squaw  a  savage  shake,  told  her  to  get  up  and  build 
the  fire,  and  then  got  into  the  bunk  again  and  pulled 
the  blanket  over  his  head. 

As  they  went  out  Charlie  motioned  to  Oscar  to  re- 
main by  the  open  door,  just  out  of  range  from  the 
bunk,  while  he  went  to  the  stable,  fed  and  watered 
the  horses,  saddled  them  and  strapped  their  share  of 
the  deer  meat  upon  the  pack. 

Breakfast  was  a  silent  act  of  duty,  and  even  long 
after  they  were  on  the  trail  again  Charlie  was  absent- 
minded  and  constantly  looking  back. 

"You  don't  think  he  will  follow  us,  do  you?" 
Oscar  asked,  with  a  decided  shiver. 

"  I  am  very  sure  that  he  will,"  Charlie  replied. 
"  He  did  not  say  good-by,  which  looked  very  much  as 
if  he  intended  to  see  us  again.  He  has  set  his  heart 
on  having  these  horses,  and  it  is  my  opinion  that  he 
will  get  them,  too,  before  to-morrow  morning." 

"  He  will  get  them  !  How  ?  "  Oscar  gasped,  clutch- 
ing the  rein  and  instinctively  laying  his  hand  on  his 
revolver. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  wish  I  did,"  Charlie  replied. 
"  Trade  is  dull  on  the  trail  now,  and  three  good  horses 
are  not  going  to  be  let  slip.  There's  a  ranch  some- 
where or  other,  for  there's  a  prairie  post-office,  there 


214  A   DOUBTFUL   HOST. 

where  the  trail  leaves  the  stage  route  again.  If  we 
should  strike  that  we  might  work  it  all  right,  but  if 
we  don't  we  shall  hear  from  him  before  this  time  to- 
morrow in  a  way  that  means  business ;  for  he  knows 
us,  now,  and  he'll  be  prepared." 

Oscar  looked  ahead  where  Charlie  pointed,  but  the 
only  sign  of  humanity  which  he  could  see  was  a  post, 
set  in  the  ground,  with  a  small  box,  apparently,  fas- 
tened to  the  top. 

"  A  prairie  post-office  ?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  Charlie  replied.  "  Maybe  the  ranch  has 
moved  away.  Maybe  it's  for  some  squatter  out  on 
this  trail ;  but  that  is  the  nearest  that  the  stage  goes 
to  something  or  other,  and  if  there  are  any  letters  for 
that  point  the  driver  leaves  them  in  that  box." 

"  If  it  should  be  another  squatter  we're  not  much 
better  off,"  Oscar  added  a  moment  later. 

"That  depends,"  Charlie  replied  quickly.  "They 
used  to  say  at  home  that  it  never  worked  to  judge  of 
a  church  by  the  man  in  the  pulpit  or  the  fellows  in  the 
best  pews.  Squatters  are  all  of  them  a  rather  solemn 
set,  especially  when  they  have  Indian  squaws.  The 
life  they  lead  is  solemn ;  but  you'll  find  many  a  true 
man  and  a  good  friend  in  a  squatter's  shanty.  What's 
that  on  the  top  of  the  post-office?  " 

"  It's  something  hanging  on  a  stick." 

"Yes;  it's  a  signal  of  some  sort,"  Charlie  added, 
giving  a  searching  glance  in  every  direction.  He 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  217 

hurried  forward,  and  Oscar,  following  close  behind, 
heard  him  exclaim,  "  By  Jimmy !  "  as  he  rode  up  and 
pulled  it  down. 

Oscar  knew  Charlie  well  enough  by  this  time  to  be 
sure  that  his  favorite  expletive  was  caused  by  a  pleas- 
ant surprise,  but  when  he  looked  over  his  shoulder  he 
found  him  examining  a  square  piece  of  bark,  contain- 
ing only  some  rude  figures  roughly  drawn  by  an 
Indian.  He  passed  it  to  Oscar  remarking,  "  This  is 
addressed  to  you,  and  I  suppose  I  should  not  have 
read  it." 

"  To  me  !  "  Oscar  exclaimed,  looking  up  in  aston- 
ishment. "  What  do  you  mean?" 

Charlie  turned  the  bark  over,  and  on  the  opposite 
side  Oscar  saw  a  half-circle  and  dash  plainly  drawn 
with  a  charred  stick.  "  That  was  a  J^ery  wise  precau- 
tion," Charlie  observed.  "  To  people  in  these  parts 
not  familiar  with  the  ranges,  it  means  nothing.  To 
you  and  me  it  means  '  Mr.  Oscar  Peterson,  Ranchman, 
of  Manitoba.'  " 

Oscar  stared  in  blank  astonishment ;  for  if  there  is 
an  incident  more  startling  than  hearing  one's  name 
pronounced  when  hundreds  of  miles  from  any  acquaint- 
ance, it  is  to  find  a  letter  addressed  to  one's  self  out 
upon  a  prairie  trail,  under  similar  circumstances. 

Seeing  his  surprise,  Charlie  continued  :  "  Have  you 
forgotten  what  I  told  you —  that  you  had  a  loyal 
Indian  friend  who  was  keeping  track  of  you,  and  that 


218  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

you  would  probably  hear  from  him  again  ?  Much  as 
I  hate  them  I  will  say  that  a  better,  truer,  more  reliable 
and  self-sacrificing  friend  cannot  be  found  than  an 
Indian  who  feels  that  he  has  a  debt  of  gratitude  to 
pay.  This  fellow  is  all-fired  smart,  too,  I  tell  you." 

"But,  Charlie,  I  tell  you  I  have  110  such  friend, 
any  way,"  Oscar  insisted,  "  and  if  I  had,  what  does  he 
mean  by  this  ?  " 

"  That's  the  question.  Let's  give  it  another  look," 
Charlie  replied.  "  I'm  not  much  on  Indian  writing, 
but  I  reckon  I  know  as  much  about  it  as  an  Indian. 
He  knew  your  name,  and  could  write  in  English  if  he 
wanted  to,  but  this  was  to  be  left  where  it  might  be 
seen,  so  he  put  it  Indian  fashion,  which  shows  that  the 
people  he  was  afraid  to  have  see  it  were  pale  faces 
and  not  Indians.  That's  meant  for  a  tomahawk  stick- 
ing in  a  stump.  That  is  a  danger,  signal ;  as  common 
as  a  red  light  on  a  railroad.  Then  that  crossed  line, 
open  at  the  top,  means  a  white  man,  and  those  three 
mean  there  are  three  of  them.  Those  wiggled  lines 
are  trees.  That's  an  open  eye,  and  that  circle  means 
the  Great  Spirit.  That  line  under  the  trees  I'm  not 
sure  —  yes,  that  means  a  gulch.  There  !  That's  all 
I  can  make  out  of  it." 

"Does  it  make  any  sense?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"Why,  certainly  !  Don't  you  see?  There  is  dan- 
ger ahead,  in  the  shape  of  three  white  men,  in  a  patch 
of  woods,  running  through  a  gulch.  Their  eyes  are 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  219 

open  ;  that  is,  they  are  on  the  watch,  and  our  only 
hope  is  in  God." 

"  That  sounds  pretty  serious,"  Oscar  said. 

"  I  reckon  it  sounds  about  as  it  is,"  Charlie  replied. 
"But  coine  on.  It  will  not  help  the  matter  any  to 
stop  here." 

"  Indians  are  bad  enough.  I  don't  want  to  meet 
any  more  white  men  on  the  war  path  this  trip,"  Oscar 
muttered,  as  they  started  on.  "  It  is  simply  outra- 
geous !  With  all  respect  for  you,  Charlie,  I  believe 
the  cowboys,  as  a  class,  have  demoralized  the  whole 
frontier  life  of  our  continent." 

"  You're  snapping  just  about  the  same  kind  of 
judgment  that  you  did  at  squatters  because  you  came 
across  a  fellow  who  looked  like  a  squatter  and  lived 
like  one  and  aimed  his  gun  at  you,"  Charlie  replied, 
with  a  little  show  of  dignity.  Changing  his  mood  in 
an  instant,  however,  he  continued:  "Well,  Oscar, 
you're  only  making  a  mistake  which  hundreds  of  wise 
men  have  made  before  you  ;  the  mistake  of  thinking 
that  every  fellow  who  has  a  slouch  hat  and  open  collar 
and  wears  spurs  and  carries  a  six-shooter  is  a  cowboy. 
Whatever  such  a  fellow  does  is  always  charged  to 
cowboys.  If  a  drunken  bully  loses  his  head  in  a  bar- 
room and  sets  his  gun  going,  it  is  cowboys  for  sure. 
If  a  bunch  of  rascals  gets  into  a  gulch  in  Dakota  and 
holds  up  everything  that  comes  along,  why,  they're 
cowboys,  even  before  you've  set  eyes  on  them.  Even 


220  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

if  a  tenderfoot  gets  himself  mixed  up  with  them  some- 
time, and  is  treated  like  a  gentleman,  whether  he  is 
one  or  not,  and  discovers  for  himself  that  in  reality, 
as  a  class,  the  cowboys  of  the  West  are  the  best  set  of 
fellows  on  the  face  of  this  earth,  loving  law  and  order 
as  much  as  they  do  a  roaring  good  time,  and  hating 
rascals  —  'specially  horse  thieves  and  Indians  —  when 
he  gets  home  again  what  does  he  do  ?  —  tell  the  truth 
about  them  ?  No.  He  just  goes  about  boasting  of 
what  a  marvel  of  courage  he  is ;  that  he  dared  to 
beard  the  lion  in  his  den  ;  that  he  has  grubbed  and 
bunked  with  real  live  cowboys,  and  still  lives  to  tell 
the  tale.  Take  that  gentleman  who  entertained  us 
last  evening.  You'd  say  he  was  a  cowboy  who  had 
grown  old  without  making  his  pile ;  that  he  was 
ashamed  to  go  back  to  civilization  a  pauper ;  that  he 
had  let  his  beard  grow,  taken  an  Indian  squaw  to  his 
wigwam,  and  settled  down  for  the  rest  of  his  days  as  a 
typical  squatter.  Hundreds  of  'um  have  done  just 
that,  but  if  you  are  to  sample  the  lot  you  must  at  least 
have  one  specimen.  That  fellow  never  drove  a  cow 
or  lived  a  day  by  farming  or  trapping.  He's  an  old 
buffalo  hunter,  and  they  are  the  worst  set  of  fellows 
the  West  has  produced.  You  see,  they  lived  the 
roughest,  wildest,  most  reckless  life  that  a  human 
being  knows,  while  the  buffalo  lasted.  They  made 
money  fast  and  spent  it  all  each  time  they  took  a  let 
up.  When  buffalo  gave  out  there  was  nothing  the 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  221 

couatry  could  offer  that  was  wild  enough  for  them. 
Some  of  them  turned  scouts  and  are  running  after 
Indians.  Some  gave  up,  clean,  and  are  still  lying 
round  cattle  towns  —  what  there  is  left  of  them  — 
keeping  themselves  drunk  and  making  all  the  trouble 
they  can  for  cowboys,  and  a  lot  of  them  drifted  into 
the  highway  business  and  became  professional  road 
agents." 

"  What  does  the  fellow  we  met  last  night  do  for 
a  living?"  Oscar  asked,  and  Charlie  looked  up  in 
astonishment,  exclaiming: 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  did  not  see 
through  him  ?  " 

Oscar  shook  his  head,  and  Charlie  continued :  "  Well, 
upon  my  word !  You  couldn't  have  done  better  if  you 
had.  You  took  hold  so  easy  that  I  thought  you  not 
only  caught  on  at  sight,  but  must  have  met  some 
friend  of  the  family  before." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  told  me  what  he  was,  yet," 
Oscar  remarked,  a  little  impatiently. 

"  Why,  a  road  agent  of  the  road  agents,  my  dear 
fellow.  A  man  who  lives  by  robbing  at  sight,  and 
killing  as  quick  where  it  is  the  easiest  way  to  come 
at  the  property,"  Charlie  replied.  "  He  keeps  that 
watering-trough  for  the  stage  horses,  and  any  other 
prairie  joggers,  which  is  enough  to  cover  up  his  tracks. 
While  they  are  watering  up  he  doubtless  takes  his 
inventory.  lie's  one  of  a  gang  —  I  reckon  the  boss  — 


222  A    DOUBTFUL    HOST. 

and  has  a  telegraph  wire  running  somewhere,  I  pre- 
sume to  the  gulch  this  warning  speaks  of.  It's  the 
biggest  scheme  I  ever  heard  of.  I  struck  the  ticker 
just  after  you  went  out  last  night.  I  staid  behind  to 
get  a  chance  to  look  round.  It  was  behind  the  upper 
bunk,  where  I  lay.  That's  why  I  took  that  bunk.  It 
is  an  underground  wire,  and  he  can  keep  his  pals 
posted  right  up  to  date.  See  ?  I  didn't  know  where 
it  went,  but  I  was  bound  he  shouldn't  get  a  chance  to 
use  it.  Halloo  !  What's  that  ?  " 

"A  signpost,  I  should  think,"  Oscar  replied,  look- 
ing forward  to  where  a  trail  crossed  the  one  they  were 
following  at  right  angles,  and  a  post  had  been  set  up 
with  a  board  across  the  top. 

Charlie  laughed.  "Signboards  would  be  a  new 
luxury  in  these  parts.  I  reckon  Uncle  Sam  don't 
waste  that  much  lumber  to  tell  the  Indians  the  way  to 
their  reservations." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  Time  enough  to  see  when  we  get  there,"  Charlie 
replied,  "  and  it's  high  time  we  took  a  rest  and  grubbed 
up.  We  sha'n't  be  troubled  till  we  get  into  the  gulch, 
I  reckon,  and  we  might  as  well  lay  in  one  more  good 
feed  while  we  can ;  but  let's  be  quick  about  it,  for  I 
should  dreadfully  like  to  get  through  those  woods  be- 
fore it's  pitch  dark." 

"  What's  that  in  the  grass  by  the  post  ? "  Oscar 
asked. 


A    DOUBTFUL    HOST.  223 

Charlie  shaded  his  eyes  and  looked  for  a  moment, 
then  muttered  :  "  An  Indian.  Bother  their  red  skins  ! 
It's  a  little  fellow,  though.  I  wonder  if  his  pa  is 
round,"  and  he  looked  carefully  in  every  direction. 
"  I  don't  see  any  signs  of  more,  but,  plague  take  them  ! 
a  whole  tribe  will  hide  behind  a  grain  of  sand  or  a 
single  stalk  of  golden-rod." 

There  were  no  more  about,  however,  as  they  drew 
nearer.  The  little  fellow  was  simply  lying  in  the 
grass,  idly  sunning  himself,  and  a  moment  later  their 
attention  was  absorbed  by  the  board  nailed  upon  the 
post. 

"  Look  at  that  for  a  sign,  will  you?"  Charlie  said, 
as  they  rode  up  to  it.  And  Oscar  did  look,  with  all 
his  eyes. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

"  DEAD  or  alive !  "  Oscar  read  with  a  shudder,  as 
he  wheeled  his  horse  about  in  front  of  the  sign  they 
had  been  watching. 

"Dead  or  alive,"  Charlie  repeated  as  he  came  into 
position  to  read. 

Seeing  that  there  was  to  be  a  halt,  Panza  started  at 
a  furious  run  after  a  rabbit,  the  moment  she  could 
drop  the  lead  line,  and  no  one  paid  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  the  little  Indian  who  was  lying  in  the  grass 
beside  the  post  as  they  approached. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Oscar  had  ever  seen  such 
a  sign,  or  been  brought  face  to  face  with  a  grim  offer  of 
gold  for  a  human  body,  dead  or  alive.  With  quiver- 
ing breath  he  read  the  description  of  three  desperadoes 
who  had  been  the  terror  of  the  district  so  long  that 
this  measure  was  at  last  resorted  to,  and  dead  or  alive 
one  thousand  dollars  in  gold  was  offered  for  each  of 
them,  with  five  hundred  extra  for  the  leader. 

224 


DEAD    OK    ALIVE.  225 

"  I  should  hate  to  be  in  one  of  those  fellows'  boots," 
Oscar  said  as  he  finished' reading,  "  and  I  should  ever- 
lastingly hate  to  meet  them.  Do  you  suppose  there's 
any  danger  of  their  venturing  within  a  hundred  miles 
of  this  sign  ?  " 

"  I'm  sorry  to  take  away  your  appetite,"  Charlie  re- 
plied, "  but  perhaps  it  will  help  you  to  appreciate  how 
I  feel  about  Indians.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that 
these  are  the  very  fellows  who  are  waiting  for  us  in 
the  gulch." 

"  Can't  we  go  round  it  some  way  ?  "  Oscar  asked, 
feeling  his  heart  throbbing  as  he  spoke. 

"  It's  probably  some  gulch  where  there  isn't  much 
show  to  go  around,"  Charlie  replied.  "  If  a  stage 
should  come  along  we  might  get  through  all  right,  but 
to  tell  you  the  honest  truth  I  don't  believe  that  there 
is  one  chance  in  ten  for  us,  if  we  have  to  try  it  alone." 

u  You  don't  think  the  fellow  at  the  sod  house  had 
anything  to  do  with  these,  do  you  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  It  is  my  impression  that  he  is  the  fifteen  hundred 
dollar  man,  himself,  if  any  one  only  looked  into  the 
matter,"  Charlie  replied. 

For  a  moment  it  almost  took  Oscar's  breath  away, 
but  recovering  himself  he  said,  "  Well,  I  can  tell  you 
one  thing :  he's  a  big  coward,  any  way." 

"  That's  true  enough,"  Charlie  remarked,  in  an  ab- 
sent-minded way.  "  All  road  agents  are  cowards.  It 
takes  a  coward  to  go  into  the  business,  in  the  first 


226  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

place,  and  it  is  a  kind  of  occupation  that  would  make 
a  coward  of  a  man  precious  quick  if  he  wasn't  one  at 
the  start.  But  the  meanest  and  most  dangerous  skunk 
that  crawls  is  the  coward  who  has  the  best  of  you  and 
knows  it." 

"  Then  what  are  we  to  do  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

It  was  some  time  before  Charlie  replied  ;  then  he 
simply  said  :  "  I  do  not  know.  You  have  a  mission  to 
perform,  and  a  long  and  useful  life  ahead  of  you.  It 
is  outrageous  to  run  the  risk  that  we  shall  have  to  in 
that  gulch,  against  such  contemptible  odds,  and  all  to 
no  purpose.  If  we  turn  back,  there  is  the  sod  house 
to  pass  again.  If  we  go  to  the  west  on  this  other  trail 
there  will  be  nothing  but  Indians.  The  trails  east  and 
south  both  lead  through  the  gulch.  You  must  take 
your  choice,  and  I  am  with  you  for  all  that  I  am  worth, 
the  moment  that  you  set  the  course." 

Oscar  thought  it  over  for  a  moment,  and  very  ear- 
nestly but  calmly  replied  :  "  We  started  for  Dead- 
wood,  and  Deadwood  is  that  way.  Let's  have  some 
grub  and  go  on." 

"  Good  enough  !  "  Charlie  responded,  with  an  en- 
thusiasm which  showed  that  he  was  much  better  satis- 
fied with  that  decision  than  any  other.  "  When  they 
overhaul  us,  if  we  have  the  shadow  of  a  show  we'll 
make  the  most  of  it.  -  If  not  we'll  give  in  so  quickly 
that  it  will  take  their  breath  away,  and  see  what  that 
will  do." 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  229 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  would  give  in  to  them 
while  you  had  a  breath  of  life  left,  do  you  ?  "  Oscar 
exclaimed,  indignantly. 

"  With  all  my  heart,  I  do,"  Charlie  replied,  with 
a  smile.  "  If  they  get  a  bead  on  me  and  my  shooter 
isn't  handy,  they  have  the  drop  and  can  do  as  they 
please  for  the  time  being.  It's  my  only  show  for  pre- 
senting a  bill  of  damages  later  on.  Now  let's  eat 
something  and  feed  the  horses  quickly.  We  shall 
need  every  glimmer  of  daylight  before  it  is  done." 

"Where's  Panza?"  Oscar  exclaimed,  dismounting, 
looking  about  in  every  direction  and  whistling. 

"  I  saw  her  start  off  after  a  rabbit  as  we  came  up. 
She's  all  right.  Her  nose  will  bring  her  back,"  Charlie 
remarked,  carelessly,  and  then  looking  quickly  about 
him,  he  added:  "  Where  is  that  Indian  boy?  Seems 
to  me  he's  cleared  out  in  a  rather  sudden  way.  Plague 
take  the  red  skins  !  We  don't  want  any  more  of  a 
muss  than  we're  in  now.  I'd  like  to  kick  myself  for 
forgetting  to  watch  him." 

"  There's  only  one  way  he  could  have  gone,  and 
that's  into  those  low  hills.  If  Panza  were  here  we'd 
soon  find  out,"  Oscar  replied  a  little  reproachfully, 
and  whistled  again,  but  there  was  no  response. 

"If  it  wasn't  that  the  horses  have  got  to  eat,  we 
wouldn't  stop,"  Charlie  remarked  as  he  took  his  rifle 
from  the  saddle  and  leaned  it  against  the  post.  "  We 
won't  take  off  the  saddles." 


230  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

Oscar  mechanically  followed  his  example.  He  was 
too  anxious  about  Panza  to  think  what  he  was  doing. 

The  horses  quickly  took  the  hint  and  began  to  feed. 
The  lead  line  of  the  pack  horse  was  dragging.  Chailie 
took  it  up  and  was  throwing  it  over  the  animal's  neck 
when  he  exclaimed :  "  Halloo  !  What's  this  ?  " 

Oscar  turned  in  nervous  haste  to  see  him  pulling  a 
strip  of  shaving  from  the  rope,  where  it  was  fastened 
to  the  horse. 

In  dark  red  letters,  plainly  traced,  they  read:  "No 
stop  minute  here.  Heap  bad  pale  face  close  by. 
Woods  empty.  Hurry  fast." 

"  That's  blood,  and  it's  still  wet,"  Charlie  muttered. 
"  To  your  horse,  Oscar.  Be  quick." 

He  caught  the  lead  line  in  his  hand,  but  before 
either  of  them  could  move,  a  deep  voice,  not  far  behind 
them,  shouted : 

"  Hands  up,  or  you  drop  !  " 

Oscar's  hand  made  a  dash  for  his  pistol,  but  quick 
as  thought  Charlie  caught  it  with  a  grip  like  iron,  and 
forced  it  up,  saying  in  a  low,  stern  voice,  "  Hold  up 
your  hands  and  keep  still,  or  we're  gone." 

It  was  in  that  peculiar  tone  which,  irrespective  of 
grammar  or  dialect,  demanded  obedience,  and  Oscar 
obeyed.  Charlie's  hands  were  up,  too,  but  Oscar 
noticed  that  he  had  dropped  the  shaving  and  was 
grinding  it  into  the  earth  with  his  foot. 

The   voice  had  sounded   from  behind,  and  as  they 


DEAD    Oil    ALIVE.  231 

turned,  with  their  hands  up,  they  discovered  the 
masked  heads  and  the  shoulders  of  three  men,  ten  feet 
apart,  less  than  a  hundred  feet  away  from  them,  half- 
hidden  in  the  grass,  and  evidently  protruding  from 
holes  dug  for  the  purpose.  In  a  line  from  each  one, 
through  the  grass,  there  shone  the  subtle  shimmer  of  a 
rifle. 

"  See  that  double-barrel  on  the  right  ?  "  Charlie  mut- 
tered in  a  low  voice.  "  That's  our  friend.  J  thought 
we  should  see  him  again."  Then  aloud  and  with  a 
reckless  laugh  he  shouted :  "  Halloo !  there,  coyotes ! 
Come  out  o'  yer  skunk  holes  an'  scoop  yer  boodle. 
Our  arms  ain't  much,  'customcd  ter  hangin'  toward  the 
sky,  an'  they'll  git  ter  aikiu'  bloomiu'  quick  an'  may 
drop  on  our  shooters." 

The  voice  of  their  late  host  sounded  in  reply,  "  Jest 
you  shift  yerselves  over  so's  we  kin  blow  daylight 
through  ye,  'out  stuffin'  the  horses." 

With  a  boisterous  laugh  Charlie  leaned  back  against 
the  pack  horse,  calling,  "Fire  away!  Don't  be 
skeered  !  I'm  tougher'n  ye  think  fur,  an'  you  hain't 
got  no  gun-fodder  thet  kin  find  its  way  through  me  ter 
start  a  hoss  t'other  side.  But  yer  want  ter  look  alive, 
now,  fur  we  ain't  a-goin'  ter  hold  our  hands  up  all 
day,  not  fur  a  regiment  sech  es  you.  You  kin  jest 
dispense  with  further  preliminaries  an'  git  in  yer  licks 
pesky  lively.  Ef  it's  the  outfit  yer  arter  you've  got 
the  bulge  on  us,  an'  we  hollers,  so  take  it  an'  be  gone. 


232  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

But  ef  it's  target  shootin',  we're  with  ye.  Empty 
them  four  bar'ls  ye've  got  atween  ye,  an'  see  whar  yer 
fetch  up.  If  thar's  ten  seconds  o'  breathiri'  space  left 
in  eraone  o'  us,  it's  mighty  likely  ter  be  the  last  time 
thet  some  o'  you  fellers  runs  his  eye  along  a  rifle  bar'l. 
Speak  up  quick,  now.  Biz  is  biz,  an'  it's  gettin'  late. 
Will  you  take  the  outfit  an'  leave  us  without  a  scratch, 
or  will  you  clean  yer  guns  an'  take  the  consequences  ?  " 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  consultation  in  a  low 
tone,  when  the  voice  replied,  "  Well,  pard,  sence  yer 
make  the  offer,  p'raps  we'll  put  up  with  the  outfit." 

"Do  ye  gin  yer  word  of  honor,  not  a  scratch?" 
Charlie  asked,  in  the  same  cool,  jovial  way. 

"  Honor  bright,"  the  man  replied,  and  Charlie 
called : 

"Let  her  go,  then !     The  outfit's  yours." 

One  of  the  men  came  out  of  his  hole,  and  deftly  and 
swiftly  relieved  them  of  their  pistols,  cartridge  belts, 
knives  and  watches,  laughing  and  joking  with  Charlie 
all  the  time. 

"  Got  some  rope  handy,  pard,  thet  I  kin  use  ter 
anchor  ye  outer  thet  hitchin'  post  ?  "  the  man  asked, 
nodding  toward  the  post  which  held  the  notice  offering 
a  thousand  dollars  for  his  body,  dead  or  alive. 

"What  do  ye  take  us  fur  ?"  Charlie  responded. 
"  Think  we're  bull- whackers,  ter  carry  a  rope  on  our 
saddles  ?  Mebby  yell  find  a  piece  on  the  pack  sad- 
dle, but  ye'll  want  ter  save  out  'nough  ter  tow  the 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  233 

youngster's  boss  with,  fur  thar  ain't  none  on  ye  kin 
straddle  him." 

Oscar's  heart  seemed  ready  to  break  as  he  stood 
there  holding  up  his  hands  for  that  ruffian.  He  was 
acting  under  Charlie's  orders,  without  any  cowardice 
in  his  nature  to  help  him  out.  He  thought  of  Panza 
and  Sancho,  and  of  his  own  bitter  humiliation,  and  it 
required  more  courage  and  self-control  to  stand  there 
than  it  would  to  have  caught  his  pistol  and  faced  the 
whole  of  them. 

"  Hurry  up,  now,"  Charlie  exclaimed,  as  the  other 
two  men  came  up.  "  It's  more  than  a  feller's  life  is 
worth  ter  hang  round  this  way  too  long.  Farsten  us 
outer  the  post  an'  git  out.  I'm  in  a  hurry  ter  be  on 
my  way  ag'in." 

The  men  all  laughed  at  this  ;  and  as  they  tied  their 
hands  and  feet,  and  then  tied  them  back  to  back,  with 
the  post  between  them,  one  of  them  remarked :  "  I 
reckon  ye  won't  travel  fur  from  here  fur  one  while. 
Folks  isn't  frequent  goiu'  this  way,  these  days,  an' 
yer'll  have  ter  wait  till  some  one  comes  along." 

"  What  'bout  Injins  ?  "  Charlie  asked. 

"  Don't  know  nor  care,"  their  host  replied,  with  a 
surly  grunt.  "  We  hain't  made  no  promises  fur 
nobody  but  ourselves." 

"  Thar,  Capt'n  Bill,"  said  one  of  the  men,  when  the 
work  was  finished  and  they  stepped  back  to  look  at 
it,  "  that's  a  putty  pair  o'  witnesses  ter  the  above- 


234  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

mentioned  notice.  It'll  look  well  in  Eastern  papers, 
won't  it  ?  *  Two  fellers  cleaned  out,  an'  lef '  tied  to  a 
notice  offerin'  three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  in 
cold  cash,  fur  the  heads  o'  them  as  did  it.' ' 

They  all  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  the  one  ad- 
dressed as  Captain  Bill,  the  man  who  carried  the  roer, 
took  a  quid  of  tobacco  from  his  mouth  and  threw  it  at 
the  notice,  saying,  "  My  compliments  ter  the  men  as 
backs  it  with  their  gold." 

"  Good  shot,"  muttered  another  man.  "  It  struck 
clean  on  yer  own  pictur.  Be  keerful  ye  don't  go  throw 
it  in  yer  own  face  instead  o'  their'n,  by  some  slip." 

With  that  they  turned  away. 

Three  times  one  of  them  tried  to  mount  Sancho  and 
failed.  Then  he  gave  up  in  despair. 

"Nevermind,"  said  Captain  Bill.  "Straddle  the 
other  one  and  lead  the  two.  We'll  go  down  an'  git 
the  mules  an'  meet  yer  by  the  brook." 

Sancho  still  rebelled,  but  as  the  other  two  horses 
moved  away  he  reluctantly  yielded.  The  man  was 
careful  not  to  injure  him,  for  he  thought  much  more 
of  the  value  of  horse-flesh  than  humanity.  Oscar 
ground  his  teeth  till  the  men  had  turned  away.  Then 
great,  bitter  tears  came  crowding  from  his  eyes  and 
down  his  cheeks  to  fall  upon  his  shirt.  He  was  glad 
that  Charlie's  back  was  toward  him,  so  that  he  could 
not  see  him  cry.  He  would  have  been  more  aston- 
ished than  he  was  by  the  rifles  of  the  highwaymen,  if 


DEAD    OR    ALIVK.  235 

his  own  back  had  not  been  turned  ;  if  he  could  have 
looked  behind  him  and  seen  the  blood-shot  eyes  and 
the  bronzed  cheeks  wet  with  tears  on  the  other  side  of 
the  post. 

Charlie's  voice  was  husky,  but  Oscar  did  not  suspect 
the  cause,  as  he  said  cheerfully :  "  Well,  we're  much 
better  out  of  it  than  I  expected.  I  didn't  suppose 
they'd  keep  their  promise  after  they'd  once  got  our 
guns,  and  I  surely  thought  they'd  take  our  coats  and 
boots  ;  I  reckon  they  have  another  job  on  hand  and 
were  in  a  hurry.  Tell  me  when  they're  out  of  sight, 
and  we'll  begin." 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  begin  what,  Charlie  ?  "  Oscar 
asked,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  Begin  getting  ready  to  recover  our  outfit,  and 
collect  a  bill  for  damages,"  Charlie  muttered. 

"  Do  you  suppose  there's  any  way  that  I  can  ever 
get  Sancho  back  ?  "  Oscar  asked,  wholly  unable  to 
comprehend  Charlie's  words. 

"  Keep  up  your  courage,  my  dear  fellow,"  Charlie 
responded.  "  I  don't  suppose  anything  about  it,  now. 
I  know  that  if  I  live  to  see  you  reach  Deadwood,  it 
will  be  on  Sancho's  back,  with  three  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars  worth  of  human  flesh  rounded  up, 
alive  or  dead,  in  front  of  you.  Now  then.  Can  you 
push  against  this  post  without  hurting  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  can,  but  I  can't  do  anything  else," 
Oscar  replied. 


236  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

"  That's  enough  for  now,"  said  Charlie,  cheerfully. 
"  I  will  count  '  One,  two.'  You  push  on  one  and  I 
will  push  back  on  two.  We'll  work  the  post  loose  in 
no  time  and  lift  it  out  from  between  us,  see  ?  " 

"  What  fools  those  fellows  were  !  "  Oscar  exclaimed, 
as  they  stood,  at  last,  free,  hand  and  foot.  But  the 
moment  so  much  was  gained,  he  thought  of  his  two 
friends  again,  and  anxiously  asked,  "  Do  you  think 
that  they  killed  Panza  ?  "  v 

"  We  can  look  around  their  holes  and  see,"  Charlie 
responded,  walking  out  in  that  direction.  "  If  they 
did  it  was  with  a  knife,  and  she'll  be  close  by.  I 
rather  think,  though,  that  your  little  Indian  was  at  the 
bottom  of  that." 

"  Who  was  he,  any  way  ?  "  Oscar  muttered,  thinking 
of  a  possibility  that  the  Indian  had  carried  Panza  off, 
and  forgetting  the  rest. 

"  You'd  know,  Oscar,  if  you'd  put  on  your  think- 
ing cap,"  Charlie  replied ;  "  but  look  at  those  holes. 
They're  the  neatest  idea  I  ever  struck.  They've  been 
used  before.  I  tell  you  that  gang  has  got  things 
down  fine.  No ;  Panza  is  not  here.  That  settles  that, 
any  way." 

"  I  tell  you,  Charlie,  that  I  don't  know  anything 
about  that  Indian.  What  makes  you  keep  saying  so  ?  " 
Oscar  exclaimed. 

"  Why,  it's  this  way,"  Charlie  said,  lying  down  in 
the  grass.  "  That  piece  of  shaving  was  precisely  the 


DEAD    OK    ALIVE.  237 

same  as  he  used  for  the  first  message,  and  the  writing 
was  the  same.  He  wrote  it  with  his  blood,  this  time, 
because  he  was  in  haste  and  had  no  burned  sticks 
handy.  He  did  it  himself,  and  after  we  came  up,  for 
it  was  wet  when  I  found  it.  He  left  the  message  this 
morning,  thinking  that  the  fellows  would  be  in  the 
gulch.  When  he  discovered  that  they  were  here, 
there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do  but  lie  round  and 
warn  us,  if  we  were  fools  enough  to  stop  over  that 
notice.  Jiminy  !  what  a  nerve  that  little  fellow  had 
to  lie  down  and  wait  right  in  range  of  three  rifles, 
when  he  knew  he  wasn't  wanted,  and  that  those  fel- 
lows would  have  shot  him  as  quickly  as  they  would  a 
rat.  He  knew  we  had  the  dog  along,  and  that  his 
smeller  might  work  the  mischief,  for  our  only  chance 
was  to  slip  by  in  a  hurry  without  noticing  them,  so  he 
caught  that  rabbit  over  in  the  hills,  and  the  moment 
we  stopped,  let  him  loose  under  Panza's  nose.  That 
disposed  of  her.  I  thought  it  was  a  queer  place  for  a 
rabbit  to  be  roosting,  and  I  wondered  when  he  started 
up  that  he  hadn't  left  before.  Now  I  have  studied  it 
out.  Well,  the  next  thing  was  to  warn  us.  If  he  had 
done  it  openly  it  would  have  been  sure  death  to  the 
whole  of  us,  without  a  whisper,  just  as  bad  as  if  Panza 
had  struck  on  them.  He  did  the  best  he  could,  and  if 
we  had  found  that  notice  before  we  had  laid  down  our 
rifles  and  left  our  saddles,  I  think  we  should  have  es- 
caped. Now  he  is  no  friend  of  mine,  so  he  must  be  a 


238  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

friend  of  yours.  And  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  one 
such  little  hero  is  enough  to  lift  the  whole  red  skin 
race  more  than  one  peg  in  my  estimation.  I  shall 
think  twice  before  I  shoot  another  Indian,  God  bless 
him !  " 

"  Charlie,"  Oscar  said  earnestly,  "  I  know  you're 
wrong,  some  way,  for  I  haven't  got  such  a  friend,  and 
I  don't  deserve  one.  I  never  did  a  real  kind  turn  for 
any  one.  But  I  will,  if  I  live.  You  see  if  I  don't." 

"  Just  now  I'm  more  anxious  to  see  something  else," 
Charlie  replied,  rising  and  walking  toward  the  post. 
"  '  Captain  Bill '  is  what  they  called  the  fellow  from 
the  sod  house,  and  they  said  he  hit  his  own  picture 
with  that  tobacco.  I'm  ready  to  bet  my  boots  that  I 
was  right  when  I  told  you  he  was  the  fifteen  hundred 
dollar  man.  There !  Look  at  that !  There's  no 
guess  work  about  it  now.  Let's  set  her  up  again. 
It'll  make  good  reading  for  others,  and  literature  is 
scarce  in  these  parts." 

As  they  dropped  the  post  into  the  hole  again  Charlie 
added,  "  To-morrow  at  this  time,  that  offer  will  be 
obsolete,  or  I  shall  have  handed  in  my  checks."  Then 
throwing  himself  on  the  ground  beside  the  post,  he 
stretched,  yawned,  and  smiling  at  Oscar's  anxious  face 
said :  "  Sit  down  and  take  life  easy  wjiile  you  can. 
There's  no  use  watching  out  when  we've  nothing  to 
fight  with.  There's  no  good  in  being  hungry  when 
we've  nothing  to  eat.  There's  no  sense  in  anything 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  239 

but  being  tired  when  the  only  thing  you  can  do  is 
rest ;  and  without  one  atom  of  slang1,  I  can  very  truly 
say  that  those  fellows  made  me  tired." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  about  Panza,"  Oscar  said  as  he  sat 
down. 

"  Well,  I  wish  I  was  half  as  sure  that  you  would 
reach  Deadwood  all  right  as  I  am  that  she  will  turn 
up,"  Charlie  replied.  "  To  tell  the  truth,  I'm  rather 
glad  she  stays  away,  for  I'm  pretty  sure  the  little 
Indian  has  got  her,  and  if  he  has,  he's  hunting  for 
some  way  to  lend  us  a  hand.  I'm  not  particularly 
good  natured  with  myself  for  hating  his  folks  the  way 
I  have." 

"  Supposing  you're  right,  Charlie,  how  could  he 
have  got  here  ?  He  surely  didn't  follow  us  by  rail," 
Oscar  said. 

"  Well,  if  the  Mennonites  told  him  we  were  going 
to  Bismarck  he  might  have  thought  that  he  could  help 
us  through  the  Indian  country  and  started  in.  Then 
if  he  found  we  left  the  trail  for  Pernbina,  the  amount 
of  common  sense  he  has  displayed  would  have  sug- 
gested that  we  were  going  by  rail,  and  if  he  was  tough 
and  his  pony  tougher,  he  could  have  cut  across  and 
reached  there  before  us.  Don't  you  remember  my 
speaking  of  a  lank  little  Indian  boy  who  kept  dodging 
us  at  Bismarck  " 

"  And  how  Panza  knew  him,  and  I  didn't  believe 
it?  "  Oscar  interrupted. 


240  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

"  Look  there !  "  Charlie  whispered,  suddenly  lifting 
his  head  and  pointing  down  the  trail  which  led  into 
the  hills,  in  the  only  direction  where  the  prairie  was 
broken  ;  for  in  spite  of  his  apparent  carelessness  the 
habit  to  "watch  out  "  was  strong. 

"  A  horse  !  "  Oscar  exclaimed,  springing  to  his 
feet.  "An  Indian  pony!  Without  a  rider!  And 
—  Charlie  !  For  mercy's  sake  !  It  is  —  it's  Panza 
leading  him." 

"  God  bless  that  little  Indian !  "  Charlie  said  ear- 
nestly, as  he  rose  to  his  feet.  "  Yes  ;  I  thought  so. 
That's  the  same  white  pony  that  we  saw  in  Manitoba, 
only  he's  pretty  well  jaded  now,  for  he's  seen  hard 
times." 

Panza  had  become  an  expert  leader,  and  was  soon 
beside  them.  She  had  evidently  been  restrained  by 
force,  for  her  collar  was  torn  and  scratched,  but  she 
was  beginning  to  comprehend,  and  very  humbly  licked 
Oscar's  hand  as  if  to  atone  for  bad  behavior. 

Upon  the  pony's  back  was  strapped  a  simple  Indian 
blanket,  and  fastened  to  the  strap  were  a  rifle,  six- 
shooter  and  double  cartridge  belt. 

"  Those  were  my  father's,"  Oscar  cried,  as  he 
caught  sight  of  them.  "  See  !  His  initials !  " 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  about  your  Indian 
now  ?  "  Charlie  asked.  "  And  here  is  something,"  he 
added,  pulling  a  folded  strip  of  brown  paper  from  a 
slit  cut  in  the  blanket.  "  The  dear  little  thief  stole 


DEAD    Oil    ALIVK.  241 

this  from  the  wrapper  round  our  cartridge  case  when 
he  was  at  the  pack  saddle.  How  did  he  come  by 
a  pencil  ?  Oh  !  I  see.  He  wrote  it  with  a  bullet. 
There's  where  he  wiped  off  the  wax,"  and  leaning  back 
against  the  pony  he  read  :  "  Heap  bad  pale  face  gone 
woods.  Eat.  Sleep.  No  watch  to-night.  Indian 
pony  heap  strong.  Two  can  ride.  Ride  fast.  Dog 
find  bad  pale  face.  Kill.  Kill.  Tie  Indian  pony 
where  water  cross  trail." 

As  he  finished  reading  Charlie  brushed  his  hand 
quickly  across  his  eyes  and  muttered,  "  Mountain 
Charlie's  spoke  his  last  hard  word  ag'in  a  red  skin, 
so  help  me  !  "  Then  he  gave  a  little  start,  as  if  to 
shake  himself  from  the  mood  that  was  upon  him,  and 
carelessly  inquired :  "  How  are  these  irons  for  aim, 
Oscar  ?  Have  you  ever  tried  them  ?  " 

"  I  have  snuffed  a  candle  at  thirty  paces,  with  this 
rifle,"  Oscar  replied  with  pride. 

"  Good  'nough,"  Charlie  observed.  "  Then  you 
keep  that.  Let  me  give  this  pistol  a  try.  Take  that 
o  in  the  '  or '  up  there."  He  tossed  the  heavy  six- 
shooter  with  a  twirl  into  the  air,  and  as  it  came  down, 
turning  over  and  over,  he  caught  it,  cocked  and  fired 
it,  before  his  hand  had  hardly  seemed  to  touch  it,  and 
Oscar  looked  in  blank  astonishment  at  the  notice, 
where  a  bullet  hole  appeared  in  the  very  center  of  the 
o,  between  "  Dead  "  and  "  Alive." 

"  That'll  do,"  Charlie  remarked,  as  he  returned  the 


242  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

pistol  to  its  case,  put  a  few  cartridges  in  his  pocket 
and  gave  the  belt  to  Oscar.  "  Now  for  the  gulch. 
'Twould  be  kind  of  mean  to  make  that  little  pony 
carry  both  of  us,  but  here's  an  Indian  trick."  He 
took  the  rope  which  had  bound  them,  made  a  fast 
collar  at  one  end  and  a  loop  at  the  other.  He  threw 
the  collar  over  the  pony's  neck  and  the  loop  round  his 
own  body  under  his  arms. 

"Now,  then,"  he  said,  "put  Panza  on  Sancho's 
track,  hop  up  and  ride  after  her  as  fast  as  you  can  get 
over  the  ground.  We  sha'n't  be  a  minute  too  soon. 
If  I  get  tired  running  behind  I'll  change  with  you  for 
a  while." 

It  was  after  sundown  when  they  saw  the  irregular 
outline  of  trees  ahead,  with  rugged,  rising  ground  on 
either  side,  and  knew  that  they  were  approaching  the 
gulch. 

They  were  walking,  leading  the  pony,  keeping 
Panza  close  between  them  as  they  entered. 

"  It's  death  or  victory  this  time,"  Charlie  whispered. 
"  If  they  see  us  first  and  give  us  the  hold  up  just 
get  a  bead  and  fire,  quicker  than  lightning.  There's 
always  a  chance  that  they  may  miss  or  not  kill,  at  any 
rate.  Take  advantage  of  it  in  advance." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  Charlie,"  Oscar  replied  earnestly. 

They  reached  the  brook,  crossing  the  trail,  and  on 
the  other  side  Panza  seemed  at  a  loss.  She  could  not 
find  the  track  again. 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  243 

'•  That's  all  right,"  Charlie  said,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  It's  another  little  game  that  those  fellows  work. 
They  leave  the  trail  here  and  go  up  in  the  middle  of 
the  stream.  They  are  somewhere  on  this  brook.  This 
is  where  the  Indian  wanted  his  pony  left,  but  I 
wouldn't  tie  him  yet.  You  may  need  him.  Keep 
close  to  him  and  keep  Panza  with  you.  If  I  want 
you  I  will  whistle  three  times.  If  there's  shooting 
and  it's  all  right  but  I  don't  need  you,  I'll  whistle 
once.  But  if  you  hear  a  shot  and  I  don't  whistle, 
just  follow  this  trail  and  make  for  the  other  end  of 
the  gulch  as  fast  as  that  pony's  legs  can  fly ;  for 
there'll  be  nothing  you  can  do  for  me." 

Oscar  caught  Charlie  by  the  shoulder.  "  Do  you 
mean  that  I  am  to  sit  here  while  you  go  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  the  best  way.  We  can't  talk  about  it  now. 
Remember  what  I  say,  and  fire  to  kill  if  any  one  tries 
to  stop  you,"  Charlie  answered  hurriedly,  trying  to 
push  off  Oscar's  hand. 

"  Do  you  think  I  will  save  myself  that  way  ? " 
Oscar  muttered. 

"  It's  the  only  way,  just  now,  Oscar,"  Charlie  re- 
plied. "  Your  life  is  much  more  valuable  than  mine, 
and  there  is  no  sense  in  your  running  this  risk." 

Charlie  was  turning  away  in  spite  of  him,  but  Oscar 
whispered :  "  Very  well.  You  take  one  side  of  the 
brook  and  I  will  take  the  other.  I  am  going  in  there 
with  you,  Charlie." 


244  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

Charlie  saw  that  it  was  useless  dissuading,  and 
waited  till  the  pony  was  tied,  and  with  Panza  again 
between  them,  they  crept  along  the  brook. 

Any  one  who  has  ever  made  his  way  through  a 
strange  and  rocky  forest,  so  dark  that  he  could  not 
see  his  own  hands,  can  appreciate  the  difficulty  which 
greeted  them ;  added  to  which  was  the  constant  possi- 
bility of  stumbling  upon  a  party  of  sleeping  outlaws 
or  walking  into  their  midst  to  find  them  wide  awake 
and  watching.  They  did  not  dare  to  move  out  of 
reach  of  each  other  or  speak,  even  in  a  whisper. 

For  fifteen  minutes  they  made  their  way  as  rapidly 
as  possible.  Many  a  noise  caused  Oscar's  heart  to 
throb  violently,  but  his  hand  was  steady  upon  the 
rifle,  and  his  foot  was  firm. 

Suddenly  Panza  began  a  low  growl.  Oscar  stopped 
her  instantly,  and  pausing  for  a  moment  they  listened 
and  looked  about  them.  They  had  kept  by  the  brook, 
guided  by  the  sound  of  the  water ;  but  now,  above  it, 
they  heard  the  faint  sound  of  voices,  laughing,  a  little 
to  the  right.  There  was  a  dense  growth  of  foliage 
upon  that  side,  but  looking  into  them  they  could  dis- 
tinguish the  glow  of  a  fire  dimly  reflected  on  some  of 
the  leaves. 

In  five  minutes  more  they  were  beyond  the  bushes 
and  a  wall  of  rock  which  inclosed  a  natural  fortress  ; 
a  great  corral  which  nature  had  built  there  for  some 
better  purpose  than  sheltering  desperadoes.  Neither 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  245 

I 

spoke.  It  was  no  time  for  words.  They  were  in  the 
secret  den  of  the  outlaws,  and  life  and  death  hung 
upon  a  single  blunder.  There  was  a  flat  surface  two 
hundred  feet  in  diameter,  surrounded  by  the  great  wall 
and  hedge.  It  was  completely  covered  with  large  trees, 
and  in  the  center  a  bright  fire  was  burning.  Upon 
one  side  of  the  corral  they  saw  the  indistinct  figures 
of  the  horses  and  mules,  and  Oscar  had  hard  work  to 
prevent  Panza  from  making  a  dash,  as  he  would  have 
been  glad  to  himself,  to  those  dim  outlines,  knowing 
that  Sancho  must  be  there ;  but  sitting  on  the  ground, 
all  on  one  side  of  the  fire,  were  the  three  outlaws.  A 
cold  shiver  van  over  Oscar  as  he  looked  at  the  grim 
and  ugly  unmasked  faces.  The  litter  of  a  camp  was 
scattered  about  them.  They  were  eating.  Captain 
Bill  sat  at  one  end. 

Oscar  fell  behind  to  follow  Charlie's  lead,  and 
cautiously  and  noiselessly  they  ci-ept  forward  among 
the  trees  till  they  reached  a  point  directly  opposite, 
where  the  three  were  sitting,  with  the  fire  between  them. 

"  Are  you  all  right,  Oscar  ?  steady  and  firm  ? " 
Charlie  whispered. 

"  Yes,"  was  the  quiet  reply,  though  in  his  heart 
Oscar  knew  that  he  was  trembling  and  shivering  with 
fear  ;  and  every  time  that  he  looked  across  those  glow- 
ing coals  at  the  savage  faces,  illuminated  till  they 
seemed  to  glare  and  flash  with  the  fire,  he  felt  the 
cold  perspiration  gather  on  his  forehead. 


246  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

"  There's  no  danger  of  their  seeing  us.  They  can 
not  see  five  feet  beyond  the  fire.  Can  you  do  some 
fancy  shooting  to  show  off?"  Charlie  asked. 

Oscar  could  scarcely  control  his  lips  to  whisper, 
"  I'll  do  my  best." 

"  All  right.  I'll  make  them  think  we're  a  squad  of 
Government  scouts.  Draw  a  bead  on  Captain  Bill. 
You'll  find  you  can  line  as  sure  in  this  light  as  by  the 
sun.  If  he  goes  for  his  gun  when  I  speak  you  will 
have  to  fire,  and  fire  to  kill.  I'll  look  out  for  the 
other  two.  Have  an  extra  cartridge  ready  to  slap  in 
quick  if  we  put  in  a  fancy  shot.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  All  ready,"  Oscar  gasped,  as  he  stood  with  his 
rifle  resting  against  the  tree  to  steady  it  and  his  eye 
along  the  sight  upon  a  point  just  below  the  shoulder 
of  the  outlaw.  He  was  stifling  —  choking.  His  heart, 
with  heavy  throbs,  seemed  to  shut  his  throat  so  that 
he  could  not  breathe. 

"  If  Charlie  knew  what  a  coward  I  am,"  he  thought, 
as  he  stood  there,  quaking,  waiting  for  the  fatal  word 
that  should  disclose  their  presence,  sure  that  if  Cap- 
tain Bill  should  so  much  as  look  at  him  he  would  be 
utterly  helpless. 

Hark !  Was  that  Charlie's  voice  ?  Clear,  firm  and 
loud  it  shouted  : 

"  Now  then,  gentlemen,  hands  up !  " 

Captain  Bill's  hands  went  up  like  a  flash,  one  of 
them  still  holding  a  tin  coffee  cup,  with  a  long  ladle 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  247 

handle.  The  man  next  him  followed  as  quickly, 
dropping1  a  knife ;  but  the  third  man  made  a  sudden 
move  and  caught  a  pistol  lying  beside  him.  Oscar 
saw  the  act,  saw  the  man's  thumb  cocking  the  revolver, 
heard  the  crash  of  Charlie's  heavy  six-shooter,  saw  the 
pistol  fall  and  heard  a  groan  and  an  oath  as  the  man's 
hands  went  up,  one  of  them  covered  with  blood. 

"  That  thumb-will  never  lift  another  hammer,  sir," 
came  in  cool,  clear  tones  from  Charlie.  "  Sorry  you 
obliged  us  to  spoil  it,  but  another  motion  on  your  part 
and  we  shall  be  obliged  to  spoil  you,  too.  To  con- 
vince you,  gentlemen,  that  there  is  no  mistake  about 
this,  I  will  ask  you,  Captain  Bill,  to  hold  that  cup 
steady,  on  your  life.  I  am  going  to  knock  the  handle 
off,  and  one  of  the  two  men  who  are  now  covering 
your  heart,  will  empty  out  the  coffee  through  a  hole 
in  the  bottom.  Steady,  now  ;  one,  two,  three !  " 

While  Charlie  was  speaking  Oscar  raised  his  rifle 
till  it  covered  less  than  two  inches  of  the  cup  which 
flashed  in  the  firelight  under  the  outlaw's  hand.  He 
noticed  that  the  hand  was  trembling  and  aimed  as  low 
as  he  dared.  When  he  saw  the  flash  of  Charlie's  pis- 
tol he  pulled  the  trigger  ;  then,  quick  as  thought,  dis- 
charged the  empty  cartridge,  slipping  in  a  fresh  one, 
and  as  he  lifted  his  rifle  again  glanced  across  the  fire 
to  see  the  handle  of  the  cup  dangling  in  the  air,  and 
the  bottom  completely  blown  away.  Charlie  called  : 

"  You  held  that  well.      I  think  you  are  not  hurt." 


248  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

"  P'raps  I  ain't,"  growled  the  squatter,  with  a 
savage  Indian  grunt ;  "  but  I  don't  keer  ter  hold  no 
more  targets  fur  your  fellers  to  fool  away  gun-fodder 
on.  What  do  yer  want,  any  way  ?  " 

"  In  the  first  place,"  Charlie  replied,  "  I  want  to 
say  to  all  of  you,  gentlemen,  that  two  dead  shot  cover 
each  one  of  you,  and  that  if  you  move  one  hair  you 
drop,  without  a  word  of  warning.  You  understand 
me,  gentlemen  ?  You  are  worth  just  as  much  cold 
cash  dead  as  alive,  and  it  will  be  easier  to  transport 
you  dead  than  any  other  way.  Now  I  have  a  young 
man  here,  Captain,  who  was  coming  from  Bismarck 
with  a  friend,  when  you  and  your  associates  over- 
hauled him,  this  afternoon." 

"  Curse  the  kid  !  I  wish  we'd  killed  him  as  I  said," 
the  outlaw  interrupted. 

"  Another  time,  Captain,  another  time,"  Charlie  re- 
sponded. "  At  present  he  will  examine  you  and  your 
associates  and  recover  his  own  property  and  that  of 
his  friend.  And  while  you  are  about  it,  young  man, 
you  may  take  charge  of  whatever  weapons  you  come 
across." 

"Yes,  sir,"  Oscar  answered,  in  a  loud  voice,  and 
handing  Charlie  the  rifle  and  some  cartridges  he 
started  quickly  toward  the  trio.  As  he  stepped  into 
the  light  his  heart  failed  for  an  instant ;  only  long 
enough  to  recall  the  fact  that  the  last  time  he  thought 
of  himself  he  was  calling  himself  a  cringing  coward, 


DEAD    OR   ALIVE.  249 

steadying  his  hand  against  a  tree  and  saying  that  if 
Captain  Bill  should  look  at  him  he  would  be  utterly 
helpless.  From  the  moment  Charlie's  voice  sounded 
he  had  so  entirely  forgotten  himself  that  he  did  not 
know  whether  his  heart  had  beat  or  not. 

He  began  with  Captain  Bill,  for  he  knew  that  he 
should  feel  much  easier  to  be  sure  that  he  had  no 
weapons  about  him,  and  he  felt  the  words  of  encourage- 
ment that  were  intended  for  him  as  Charlie's  voice 
sounded,  commanding  the  imaginary  squad  : 

"  Stand  steady,  boys,  and  drop  the  first  man  who 
moves.  It's  money  in  your  pockets  to  accommodate 
them,  if  they  want  to  die." 

With  the  second  man  Oscar  found  that  the  work 
was  much  easier,  and  by  the  time  he  had  relieved  the 
third  he  even  stopped  and  carefully  bound  up  the 
wounded  thumb  with  his  handkerchief. 

It  required  several  trips  to  carry  everything  to 
where  Charlie  was  standing  guard.  When  he  came 
with  the  last  Charlie  said :  "  You  did  that  well,  young 
man.  A  little  experience  of  this  sort  will  not  hurt 
you  if  you  expect  to  grow  up  in  these  parts.  The 
sergeant  has  a  coil  of  rope  and  some  line.  Tie  these 
gentlemen's  hands  behind  their  backs,  and  tie  them 
together  by  their  necks,  four  feet  apart." 

As  he  spoke  he  handed  Oscar  the  rope  which  had 
already  played  so  many  parts  that  day,  and  a  ball  of 
strong  twine  from  his  pocket. 


250  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

Returning  again,  when  this  was  accomplished,  Oscar 
took  the  position  of  guard  while  Charlie  with  Panza, 
went  in  search  of  the  horses.  lie  found  them  care- 
fully corraled  and  well  fed.  The  moon  had  crept  over 
the  mountains  and  now  shone  into  the  gulch,  and  by 
the  help  of  an  occasional  match,  for  an  instant,  he 
soon  had  them  ready  to  start ;  the  mules  and  pack 
horse  tied  together ;  the  captured  arms  and  ammuni- 
tion rolled  in  blankets  and  strapped  upon  the  saddles. 
He  brought  up  a  pail  of  water  and  took  the  box  of 
crackers  from  the  pack ;  a  most  welcome  sight,  for 
they  had  eaten  nothing  since  breakfast,  and  when  all 
was  yeady,  with  eyes  and  ears  upon  their  prisoners, 
they  began  their  lunch. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  next  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 

"  Get  out  of  this  gulch  right  away,  if  you  think 
you  can  stand  it,"  Charlie  replied.  "The  fact  is,  we 
have  not  struck  their  headquarters.  This  is  only  a 
way  station.  I  don't  know  whether  they  intended  to 
spend  the  night  here  or  are  simply  waiting  for  some 
one.  It's  likely  enough  there's  more  than  three,  you 
know,  and  it  would  be  too  bad  to  have  another  fellow 
drop  in  now,  and  turn  the  tables  back  again.  They 
are  too  easy  for*  men  going  to  the  gallows.  They  ex- 
pect to  get  off  in  some  way,  and  the  quicker  we  are 
out  of  this  gulch  the  better." 

"  All  right,"  Oscar  replied,  grasping  his  rifle  and 
mounting. 


DEAD    OR   ALIVE.  251 

Charlie  took  the  rifle  and  belt  which  the  Indian  had 
sent  them,  with  a  piece  of  bacon  and  some  crackers 
rolled  in  a  blanket,  to  leave  on  the  pony  as  they 
passed.  "  They  must  walk  first,"  he  whispered,  as  his 
last  instructions.  "  You  ride  about  twenty  feet  be- 
hind. I'll  be  close  after  you  leading  the  pack.  Re- 
member life  depends  on  being  quick  and  sure  if  there 
is  the  shadow  of  a  necessity  to  fire." 

They  filled  their  shirt  fronts  with  the  remaining 
crackers  to  eat  on  the  way.  Charlie  tied  the  lead  line 
to  his  saddle  and  mounted.  It  was  already  so  light 
from  the  moon  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  fire  directly 
in  front  of  them,  the  men  must  surely  have  been  able 
to  see  them  ;  but  they  had  comparatively  little  to  fear 
from  that  immediate  quarter  now.  Only  on  the  chance 
of  carrying  out  the  illusion  a  little  farther  Charlie 
called : 

"  Attention  !  Boys  !  All  ready  !  Now  then,  gen- 
tlemen, I  must  trouble  you  to  stand  up." 

They  made  very  slow  work  of  getting  on  their  feet ; 
but  when  they  were  standing  at  last,  Charlie  continued  : 
"  We  are  going  down  the  brook  to  the  trail.  If  one 
of  you  speaks  or  the  slightest  thing  occurs  that  is  out 
of  order,  or  we  have  any  trouble  from  outside,  you  three 
men  will  drop  in  a  bunch,  before  you  draw  a  second 
breath.  Those  are  orders.  Now  then,  forward  !  " 

They  reached  the  trail,  and  timiing  to  the  right 
they  followed  it  all  night,  at  that  dragging  pace  which 


252  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

the  prisoners,  with  hands  tied,  necessitated.  Every 
shadow  seemed  some  friend  of  their  captives  coming  to 
rescue  them.  Every  sound  suggested  Indians  ready 
to  murder  the  whole  of  them.  It  seemed  to  Oscar 
the  longest  night  he  had  ever  known.  It  was  almost 
morning  when  they  emerged  from  the  gulch  upon 
a  broken  prairie  land,  and  even  then  the  lagging  day- 
light would  not  come.  There  was  not  a  cabin,  hut  or 
tepee  anywhere,  or  any  sign  of  life  ;  nothing  but  the 
twisting  trail,  forever  winding  away  in  front  of  them, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach. 

At  last  the  sun  came  up,  however,  and  far  ahead  of 
them  Oscar  saw  a  better  beaten  path  joining  the  trail, 
and  knew  that  it  must  be  the  stage  route  they  were 
looking  for.  By  the  time  they  reached  it  the  prisoners 
could  scarcely  stand  or  drag  one  foot  after  the  other, 
and  humanity  forced  Charlie  to  abandon  the  wisest 
course,  and  call  a  halt. 

It  was  the  first  word  which  had  been  spoken  since 
they  left  the  brook  and  took  the  trail.  The  men  were 
thoroughly  exhausted,  and  instantly  dropped  upon  the 
ground,  while  Oscar  quickly  untied  their  hands,  and 
tied  their  feet  together  instead.  They  might  have  re- 
fused to  go  farther  long  before,  but  for  the  reminder 
that  the  price  upon  their  heads  was  "  dead  or  alive," 
and  the  impression  that  their  captors  needed  very  little 
excuse  to  take  advantage  of  the  fact ;  in  which  they 
were  judging  others  by  themselves. 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 


253 


Charlie  sat  in  his  saddle,  rifle  in  hand,  while  tke 
work  was  going  on,  then  said,  "  Now,  Oscar,'  you  did 
it  all  last  night,  and  if  you'll  stand  guard  this  morning 
I  will  see  what  I  can  do." 

A  fire  was  soon  burning,  venison  was  roasting,  coffee 
was  boiling,  and  bacon  frying,  and  half  of  their  re- 
maining supply  of  flour  and  meal  was  mixed  for 
prairie  pancakes.  After  breakfast  Cljarlie  took  the 


•'        i     •  i      i '         /'•',"'  !-''         --,i  i  , 

1  •  '         >•     ii  '  J '    ,,  ,  »'  v1 

THEY   EMEKGED    FBOM   THE   GULCH. 

watch,  telling  Oscar  to  roll  up  without  delay  and 
sleep.  For  a  moment  he  demurred,  but  he  did  not 
realize  that  Charlie  had  lain  awake  all  night  in  the 
sod  house  as  well,  and  he  easily  yielded,  for  his  eyes 
would  hardly  keep  open,  even  for  breakfast.  As  he 
stretched  out  upon  the  ground,  with  his  rifle  beside 
him,  and  drew  a  blanket  over  his  face,  he  heard 
Charlie  say : 

"  Well,  fellers,  the  best  I  kin  do  for  yer  is  ter  say 
flop  over  on  yer  backs  and  go  ter  sleep,"  and  he  felt 


254  DEAD    OR    ALIVE. 

a  cold  shiver  as  Captain  Bill's  voice  sounded  for  the 
first  time,  asking : 

"  Whar's  the  rest  o'  yer  regemunt  ?  " 

"  There's  enough  of  it  here  ter  manage  you  fellers," 
Charlie  replied,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that  you  two  kittens  wus  alone, 
and  bagged  us  three  old  rats?"  the  squatter  asked, 
in  blank  astonishment. 

"  That's  about  the  size  of  it,"  Charlie  answered. 

Oscar  was  peeking  from  under  his  blanket,  and  in 
spite  of  his  tired  muscles  and  sleepy  eyes  he  laughed 
aloud  as  the  sullen  old  outlaw  gave  one  powerful  grunt 
and  lay  down. 

Charlie  began  his  watch,  and  a  tough  one  it  was. 
Every  one  about  him  was  soundly  sleeping.  Even 
Panza  was  stretched  at  full  length  on  the  ground,  and 
the  horses  and  mules  were  all  asleep.  The  sun  was 
hot.  The  sky  was  without  a  cloud.  Sometimes  it 
seemed  utterly  impossible  to  keep  awake,  and  as  he 
walked  steadily  up  and  down  beside  the  prisoners  he 
more  than  once  stumbled,  and  roused  himself  to  find 
that  he  had  been  tramping  in  his  sleep. 

At  last  he  yielded  to  the  temptation  to  look  at 
his  watch.  Four  hours  had  dragged  themselves  away 
since  Oscar  lay  down.  He- made  up  his  mind  that  he 
must  c;all  him  at  the  next  turn.  There  was  no  help 
for  it.  But  one  of  the  prisoners  started  up,  with  a 
cry.  He  was  simply  dreaming,  but  it  roused  Charlie 


DEAD    OR    ALIVE.  255 

from  his  stupor  in  an  instant,  and  he  found  that  he 
could  give  Oscar  a  little  longer  rest. 

Another  half-hour  wore  away,  when  he  caught  him- 
self yielding  again,  and  turned  to  take  one  careful 
survey  of  their  surroundings  before  waking  Oscar  and 
turning  in. 

"What's  that?"  he  muttered,  as  his  eye  caught 
a  speck,  a  dark  shadow,  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  moving 
along  the  side  of  a  distant  knoll.  "  If  it's  Indians,  or 
friends  of  these  fellows,  we're  done  for.  But  it's  long 
past  time  for  the  Deadwood  stage."  He  shaded  his 
eyes,  and  watched  till  the  shadow  disappeared  behind 
rising  ground ;  but  his  eyes  were  too  tired  to  serve 
him.  He  could  make  nothing  out  of  it. 

He  woke  Oscar,  and  started  Sancho  and  his  own 
horse  to  their  feet. 

"  There's  something  coming  from  the  north,"  he 
whispered.  "  You'll  see  it,  presently,  right  there.  If 
it  is  Indians,  or  anything  doubtful,  we  had  better  leave 
and  light  out  for  Deadwood,  for  these  fellows  are  in 
with  the  red  skins,  and  they  may  have  no  end  of 
friends  about." 

The  object  came  in  sight  again.  It  was  nearer, 
and  in  a  better  position.  Oscar  looked  carefully,  with 
shaded  eyes,  while  Charlie  watched  the  prisoners. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

DEADWOOD. 

"I  SHOULD  think  it  was  a  stage  coach,"  Oscar 
whispered. 

"  Don't  make  a  mistake,  now,"  Charlie  said,  in  a 
voice  that  was  almost  pathetic.  "I  don't  feel  much 
like  fighting  Indians  this  morning." 

"  I  am  not  mistaken,"  Oscar  said  slowly.  "  It's 
not  Indians,  sure.  And  it  is  a  stage  coach.  There 
are  four  horses  ahead,  and  people  sitting  on  top.  It's 
a  stage,  sure,  Charlie." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  Charlie  exclaimed,  in  a  deep 
earnest  voice.  "  Thank  Heaven !  we  are  out  of  the 
most  dangerous  hole  we  could  have  got  into  this  side 
of  either  ocean." 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  has  really  been  much  danger 
since  we  got  them  tied  up,  has  there?"  Oscar  asked, 
in  astonishment  at  Charlie's  earaestness.  And  he 
noticed,  for  the  first  time,  how  pale  and  haggard 
Charlie's  face  looked  in  the  sunlight. 

256 


DEADWOOD.  257 

His  friend  smiled  as  he  replied  :  "  Since  I  rapped 
on  the  sod  house  door  there  has  not  been  one  minute 
when  the  chances  were  not  better  that  the  next  one 
would  find  us  dead  than  alive,  yet  here  we  are,  with 
three  of  the  biggest  desperadoes  in  the  country  tied 
neck  and  heels,  and  the  Deadwood  stage  coming  up. 
Oscar  Peterson,  you  are  a  trump,  through  and  through. 
There  isn't  a  ranger  on  the  plains  to-day  who  can  hold 
a  candle  to  you.  And  next  to  you,  God  bless  your 
little  Indian !  " 

"  Don't  you  talk  that  way,  Charlie,"  Oscar  ex- 
claimed excitedly,  while  tears  filled  his  eyes.  "  I 
know  who  it  was  who  did  it  all,  with  the  help  of  the 
Indian's  pony  and  guns.  If  I  am  ever  one  half  as 
brave  as  you  are  I  shall  be  satisfied.  And  when  I 
think  how  much  I  owe  to  you  " 

"  Bosh !  "  Charlie  muttered,  turning  quickly  away 
and  going  over  to  the  prisoners. 

"  Wake  up,  boys,"  he  shouted ;  "  you've  had  five 
hours  to  rest,  and  the  cars  are  coming.  Look  alive, 
now.  We  haven't  grub  enough  to  offer  you  another 
meal,  but  here's  hot  coffee.  Down  with  it,  quickly, 
and  be  on  your  feet." 

"What's  the  row?"  the  squatter  asked  sullenly, 
drinking  the  coffee,  while  Charlie  untied  their  feet 
and  prepared  to  tie  their  hands,  and  Oscar  mounted 
Sancho  and  sat  on  guard. 

"  There's  no  row  unless  you  make  it,  and  we  should 


258  DEADWOOD. 

put  a  stop  to  that  precious  quick,  I  tell  you.  Uncle 
Sam's  letter-box  is  coming-,  and  we  want  to  make  a 
good-looking  squad.  See?" 

"The  stage!"  An  obvious  shudder  ran  through 
the  trio.  Captain  Bill  glanced  quickly  about  him,  as 
though  in  search  of  some  weapon.  Oscar's  rifle  flew 
to  his  shoulder;  Charlie  stepped  back  and  caught  his 
pistol  from  his  belt. 

"  Dead  or  alive,  now,"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  fellows 
stand  up ;  and  do  it  quick !  Now  put  your  hands  be- 
hind your  backs  and  hold  them  still.  One  motion 
while  I  am  tying  them,  and  what's  left  o'f  you  will  go 
to  Dead  wood  on  the  tailboard  of  the  stage." 

The  rope  around  their  necks  proved  an  excellent 
precaution  against  a  sudden  break,  and  Charlie  finished 
his  work  without  another  move.  When  it  was  done 
Captain  Bill  muttered :"  Look  a-here!  ef  we  hadn't 
a-let  you  off  yesterday  we'd  'a'  been  O  K  terday.  Now 
money's  v/hat  yer  arter.  You've  got  back  yer  kit. 
Take  us  ter  Deadwood,  an'  yer  in  three  thousand  five 
hundred.  Jest  cut  these  ropes  an'  gin  us  back  our 
mules  an'  shootin'-irons,  an'  we'll  send  ye,  by  the  next 
stage,  five  thousand  dollars  in  clean  gold.  Now  that's 
fair." 

Oscar  started  up  the  mules  and  pack  horse,  and 
formed  them  in  line  as  Charlie  replied  :  "  So  far  as 
you're  concerned,  Captain  Bill,  I  reckon  you  mean  it 
to  be  fair ;  but  lookin'  at  the  matter  from  my  side 


DEADWOOD.  259 

I'm  'gin  your  biz,  on  principle.  I  may  want  ter  go 
through  that  gulch  ag'in.  And  thar's  others  has  es 
good  a  right.  Now  I'll  tell  yer  jest  es  'tis.  I'd  ruther 
turn  you  fellers  over  ter  Uncle  Sam,  an'  pay  him  five 
thousand  dollars  out  o'  my  own  pocket,  ter  keep  yer 
out  o'  mischief,  than  ter  let  yer  go  ag'in  in  swap  fur 
the  hull  of  Dakota." 

"  Fools  we  were  not  ter  try  our  chances  when  we 
had  our  hands  free,"  the  outlaw  muttered. 

As  the  stage  approached  the  driver  looked  suspi- 
ciously at  the  little  group,  and  drew  up  fifty  yards  away, 
calling  to  know  who  they  were  and  what  they  wanted, 
while  two  men,  who  sat  behind  him  to  guard  the  mails, 
made  an  ostentatious  display  of  their  rifles. 

"  Harry  Porter !  by  the  powers  !  "  Charlie  shouted, 
catching  off  his  hat  and  swinging  it  lustily. 

The  driver  looked  sharp  from  under  his  broad  brim 
for  an  instant,  then,  quickly  tossing  the  reins  to  the 
man  who  sat  beside  him,  whose  duty  it  was  to  handle 
the  long  whip,  he  left  the  high  seat  at  a  single  bound, 
and  made  for  Charlie  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry 
him. 

Oscar  did  not  dare  to  take  his  eyes  for  an  instant 
from  the  prisoners,  but  IIB  overheard  enough  to  know 
that  they  were  college  classmates  who  had  parted  in 
dress  suits  after  the  graduation  reception,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  Cambridge  elms,  to  meet  in  this  way  on 
the  Deadwood  trail. 


260 


DEADWOOD. 


"  I  reckon  you  didn't  get  held  up  last  night,  in  spite 
of  your  being  so  late,"  Charlie  said. 

"  No,  I  didn't,"  his  friend  replied ;  "  I  hung  up 
t'other  side,  and  waited  for  daylight.  It's  getting  too 
thick  for  me  in  there  after  dark.  I  haven't  made  a 
trip  for  three  weeks  without  a  scrimmage  or  a  clean 
hold  up.  Look  at  that  hat  o'  mine.  There's  three 
bullet  holes  come  in  it  back  there,  at  various  times. 


MEETING   ON   THK   DEADWOOD   TRAIL. 

I  said  to  myself,  '  it's  three  times  and  out ;  and  I'm 
not  going  to  have  my  hat  ruined  completely,'  so  I 
hung  up  for  daylight,  though  it'll  make  me  late  in." 

"Well,  you're  right,  Harry;  it  is  three  times  and 
out,"  Charlie  remarked.  "  There's  your  men.  We 
treed  them  and  brought  them  out  of  the  gulch  last 


DEADWOOD.  261 

night.  If  you  will  transport  them  to  the  Deadwood 
authorities,  with  our  compliments,  it  will  be  the  best 
thing  you  can  do  for  that  hat,  now  I  tell  you." 

Harry  stepped  over  and  inspected  the  prisoners, 
stopping  short  before  Captain  Bill,  taking  off  his  hat, 
bowing  very  low,  and  saying:  "How  do  you  do,  sir? 
I  never  was  more  delighted  in  my  life.  I  should  know 
you  anywhere,  mask  or  no  mask.  Look  at  that  hole 
through  the  crown  of  my  sombrero?  It  was  a  big 
double-barrel  cannon  of  yours  that  put  that  there.  It 
came  precious  near  calling  for  my  checks.  Yes,  sir ; 
I'll  see  you  safe  to  Deadwood,  as  cheerfully  as  ever  I 
carried  a  bail  o'  goods  in  all  my  days.  Haul  up  this 
way,  Jerry,"  he  called  to  the  man  who  held  the  reins. 
" '  Tenvpus  fugitsj  as  my  friend  here  has  often  re- 
marked while  he  was  loading  paper  guns  with  Latin 
powder  and  Greek  shot.  Just  hustle  in  on  the  back 
seat  there,  now.  That'll  do."  Then  turning  to  the 
two  men  on  the  mail  seat  he  said  :  "  All  the  danger  is 
inside,  now.  You  can  put  up  your  rifles  and  get  out 
your  navies,  and  go  in  out  of  the  wet." 

The  officers  took  the  three  men  in  hand.  Oscar  and 
Charlie  refused  Harry's  urging  that  they  go  on  with 
him,  but  Charlie  got  out  the  double-barreled  roer  and, 
consulting  Oscar,  presented  it  to  his  friend  as  a  me- 
mento in  which  he  had  a  personal  interest.  Then, 
promising  to  see  htm  in  Deadwood,  they  watched  the 
stage  drive  away. 


262  DEADV/OOD. 

"  Well,  if  that's  not  a  mountain  off,  there  never 
was  one,"  Charlie  said,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  "  Now 
let's  have  some  grub,  and  then  if  you  will  watch  out 
for  three  hours,  while  I  sleep,  I'll  be  ready  for  any- 
thing that  comes  along." 

Fortunately  nothing  did  come  along,  and  two  hours 
before  sunset  they  started  again. 

"  We'll  make  an  easy  stage  this  time,"  Charlie  said, 
"and  bunk  early,  so  the  horses  will  be  ready  for  a 
daylight  start,  and  look  reasonably  fresh.  We  want 
to  put  on  all  the  style  we  can  for  Deadwood." 

Ranches  appeared  occasionally,  and  many  a  little 
cluster  of  mining  huts,  as  they  neared  Deadwood. 
The  hills  rose  about  them  in  ragged  and  irregular 
mound  and  cones,  full  of  gorges  and  ravines,  often 
covered  with  a  low  growth  of  scraggy  pines,  with 
gaunt  dead  trunks  rising  grim  and  black,  testifying  to 
some  forest  fire  in  years  gone  by. 

"  I  don't  wonder  they  have  had  trouble  with  Indians 
here,"  Oscar  remarked.  "  If  I  were  an.  Indian  I 
would  ask  no  better  place  to  make  myself  at  home." 

"  Well,  they  have  just  done  it,"  Charlie  replied. 
"  There  isn't  a  foot  of  ground  about  us  that  hasn't 
felt  an  Indian  on  the  war  path.  Look  at  those  graves 
down  in  the  bottom  of  this  gulch  !  '  Killed  by  the 
Indians.'  That's  the  record  you  would  find  on  the 
wooden  tombstones  there,  if  it  is  not  obliterated. 
Times  are  a  good  deal  changed  since  the  first  rush  to 


DEADWOOD. 


2G3 


these  parts,  and  the  furious  objection  which  the  Indian 
made  at  the  start.  Travelers  used  to  bunch  up  in 
gangs  of  fifty  or  a  hundred,  if  they  could,  and  make 
a  perfect  caravan  with  their  long  line  of  teams.  At 
night  they  would  strike  for  the  highest  lump  of  land 
they  could  find,  and  back  their  carts,  one  after  another, 
so  as  to  make  a  circle  round  the  top.  They  would 
cook  and  eat  in  there,  and  when  the  horses  and  mules 
or  oxen  had  fed  they  would  pull  them  into  the  corral, 


"  ONLY   WAITING   FOK  A   SHOW." 

too,  and  all  sleep  together.  It  was  the  only  way  they 
could  get  through  alive,  for  from  one  end  to  the  other 
they  were  watched  by  the  red  skins,  who  were  only 
waiting  for  a  show  to  pounce  upon  them.  When  I 
was  coming  up  the  last  time,  we  hit  upon  a  party  of 
eight  that  had  been  attacked  and  every  scalp  lifted. 
Some  of  the  bodies  were  horribly  mutilated.  The 


264  DEADWOOD. 

wagons  had  been  ransacked,  and  all  the  animals  car- 
ried off.  We  could  only  do  what  hundreds  had  done 
before  us  under  similar  circumstances  ;  dig  a  hole,  put 
the  bodies  in  it  and  cover  them  up,  take  a  board  from 
one  of  the  wagons  and  plant  it  at  the  head,  with  all 
the  names  of  the  party  that  we  could  discover  burned 
upon  it  with  a  hot  iron,  and  at  the  bottom,  '  Killed  by 
Indians.'  Then  we  went  on  our  way  again,  cursing 
the  red  man." 

In  time  the  straggling  camps  and  cabins  assumed 
more  prominence.  The  path  was  better  beaten,  and 
occasionally  they  met  people  walking  or  riding  upon 
it.  Gradually,  too,  as  they  came  back  again  into 
civilization,  it  was  evident  that  the  entire  atmosphere 
was  different  from  what  they  had  experienced  before. 
The  people  they  met,  and  everything  pertaining  to 
them,  was  different.  There  was  nothing  in  any  way 
to  suggest  the  trading-post  of  Pembina.  There  was 
nothing  to  suggest  the  slightest  resemblance  to  the 
farming  town  of  Casselton.  There  was  no  odor  of  the 
shipping  interests  of  Bismarck.  Everything,  every- 
where, was  mining,  pure  and  simple.  It  was  as  if 
they  had  come  out  upon  another  world  with  another 
race  of  people.  There  had  been  miners  in  the  streets 
of  the  other  cities,  but  they  seemed  like  strangers 
there.  Oscar  felt  like  just  as  much  a  stranger  and  as 
much  out  of  place  in  entering  Deadwood. 

Here  and  there  the  mines  appeared  along  the  hill- 


THEY  ENTERED  DEADWOOD. 


DEADWOOD.  267 

sides  and  up  the  valleys  and  gulches  —  discolored 
patches  where  the  earth  had  been  thrown  out,  most 
of  them,  sodden  and  heavy,  indicative  that  the  anxious 
searchers  had  dug  and  failed  and  gone  away ;  while 
many  were  only  just  begun,  and  men  were  working 
with  pick  and  shovel  and  wheelbarrow,  or  lounging 
about  the  most  disconsolate  of  little  shanties. 

Even  their  language  —  the  words  they  used  and  the 
way  they  used  them  —  was  unlike  anything  Oscar  had 
ever  heard,  and  he  began  to  realize  the  truth  of  what 
Charlie  had  told  him ;  that  each  of  the  great  occupa- 
tions of  the  frontier,  with  its  isolated  circle  of  devotees, 
had  its  own  lingo ;  a  lingo  which  came  with  it,  and 
was  as  much  a  part  of  it  as  the  pick,  the  rope,  the 
bull-whip  or  the  mode  of  dress. 

It  was  difficult  to  tell  just  when  they  really  entered 
Deadwood.  It  was  growing  dark,  but  to  Oscar's 
wide-open  eyes  and  nervously  excited  condition  it 
seemed  the  strangest  combination  in  which  one  could 
possibly  find  himself.  There  was  nothing  that  was 
like  the  mines  which  he  had  seen  in  England,  or  the 
well-regulated  mines  on  the  estate  at  home.  There 
was  no  order,  system  or  harmony  in  anything;  but  a 
great,  free  race  to  guard  against  Indians,  highwaymen 
and  starvation,  and  make  a  fortune,  if  possible,  re- 
gardless of  any  one  else,  and  the  quicker  the  better  ; 
from  above  the  ground  or  underground ;  in  gulch  or 
cliff  ;  by  washing,  crushing  or  smelting,  and  to  exist, 


268  DEADWOOD. 

the  while,  in  hole  or  dugout,  log  cabin,  sod  house, 
adobe  hut,  board  shanty  or  tasteful  residence  —  all  of 
which  were  within  sight  at  a  single  glance. 

Now  the  houses  stood  so  high  above  the  street  that 
to  reach  them  one  must  literally  climb,  while  within  a 
stone's  throw  they  would  be  so  far  below  the  street 
that  only  a  ship's  plank  seemed  required  to  walk  into 
the  second  story  windows,  if  they  had  any,  or  out 
upon  the  roof. 

As  they  rode  slowly  down  the  narrow  valley  which 
forms  one  arm  of  the  Y-shaped  city,  Oscar  said  with  a 
shudder : 

"  I  wouldn't  change  places  with  one  of  these  fellows 
here  if  in  the  end  I  got  a  pile  of  dust  as  big  as  that 
hill." 

Charlie  turned  slowly  about  in  his  saddle  and  asked, 
"  Is  there  any  one  in  the  world  with  whom  you  would 
change  places,  Oscar  ?  " 

"  Dear  me !  Thousands,"  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  Why, 
I  can  hardly  keep  myself  from  envying  almost  every- 
body." 

"  You  may  envy  people  some  particular  advantages 
they  have  which  if  you  had  you  could  utilize,"  Charlie 
replied  thoughtfully;  "but  you  just  go  ahead,  now, 
and  fix  on  one  solitary  mortal  with  whom  you  would 
be  willing  to  change  places,  body  and  soul  —  all  cir- 
cumstances, ambitions  and  conditions  included,  I 
mean." 


DEADWOOD.  209 

"  Maybe  that's  a  little  different,"  Oscar  said,  and 
rode  on  in  silence  for  a  moment.  Then  he  exclaimed  : 
"  Why,  upon  my  word,  Charlie,  I  never  thought  of  it 
that  way.  I  don't  believe  that  I  should  really  care  to 
change  places  that  way  with  any  one  that  I  know.  It 
sounds  queer  and  conceited  to  say  so,  and  surely  I  am 
not  over-well  satisfied  with  some  circumstances  in  my 
own  life." 

"  No  one  ever  is,"  Charlie  interrupted.  "  At  least 
if  he  is,  he  is  to  be  pitied.  And  on  the  other  hand  we 
know  precious  little  about  the  skeletons  in  other  peo- 
ple's closets.  We  only  know  the  most  hopeful  and 
promising  side,  and  yet,  unless  you  strike  an  out  and 
out  fool,  I  don't  believe  you'll  find  the  man  who  would 
be  willing  to  swap,  clean  over,  sight  unseen,  taking 
only  what  he  thinks  the  condition  of  any  other  man 
that  lives." 

"  What  made  those  fellows  stare  at  us  that  way  as 
they  passed  ?  "  Oscar  asked  abruptly. 

"  Did  they  ?  I  didn't  notice  them.  I  was  talking 
metaphysics,  and  I  didn't  even  look  at  them,"  Charlie 
replied,  with  a  careless  laugh. 

"  They  certainly  did,"  Oscar  repeated,  decidedly. 
"  They  were  looking  at  us  very  sharp,  every  one  of 
them.  As  they  came  up  abreast  they  slowed  down  a 
little,  and  then  they  looked  back  again  after  they  were 
on  ahead.  They  were  certainly  talking  about  us." 

"  And  now  we're  talking  about  them,  to  pay  them 


270  DEADWOOD. 

back,"  Charlie  observed,  laughing.  "  I  reckon  'twas 
only  because  we're  strangers  here.  One  would  think 
that  in  a  place  like  this,  where  everybody's  a  stranger, 
they'd  get  so  used  to  such  a  sight  as  to  turn  away  from 
it  in  disgust.  But  there's  no  place  on  earth  like  these 
mining  towns  for  curiosity  concerning  new  people.  A 
New  England  village  is  nowhere.  Thirteen  years  ago, 
while  I  was  trying  my  luck  here  at  losing  everything, 
even  to  grub-stakes,  there  was  a  tenderfoot  came  slid- 
ing down  the  street  at  a  lively  pace,  on  a  likely  piece 
of  horse  flesh,  taking  an  airing,  and  thinking  himself 
a  full-fledged  frontier  feller,  when  an  old  settler  stepped 
out  into  the  street  and  held  him  up,  at  the  muzzle  of 
a  big  navy.  It  was  so  sudden  that  he  slid  clean  off 
his  saddle.  He  was  white  as  a  sheet ;  but  the  miner 
quietly  put  up  his  shooter,  looked  him  over,  nodded 
pleasantly,  and  remarked,  'I  say,  stranger,  when  yer 
showin'  yerself  off  in  these  parts,  do  it  slow,  so's  folks 
kin  git  a  good  look  at  ye.'  Then  he  walked  away." 

"  I'd  have  been  tempted  to  show  him  the  end  of  my 
gun,  about  that  time,"  Oscar  remarked,  with  a  laugh. 

"  He  didn't  mean  any  harm,"  Charlie  explained. 
"It  was  a  pretty  rough  way,  but  he  evidently  sized 
his  man  in  advance,  and  only  meant  it  for  a  joke. 
There's  a  good  deal  of  harm  done  in  taking  these 
fellows'  jokes  too  serious." 

"  But  isn't  there  a  lot  of  shooting  done  in  earnest, 
too  ?  "  Oscar  asked. 


DEADWOOD.  271 

"  There  was  at  one  time ;  but  there's  not  so  much 
of  that  now,  I  reckon,"  Charlie  replied,  quickly. 
"  Many's  the  time  that  it  was  called  a  poor  day  for 
excitement  in  Deadwood  if  there  wasn't  a  first-class 
shooting  row  somewhere,  with  one  body,  at  least,  to 
carry  down  the  street.  But  to  sample  things  on  the 
strength  of  that  is  as  wrong  as  it  is  popular.  A  fron- 
tier town,  and  a  mining  town  at  that,  will  always  draw 
to  it  the  meanest  skunks  that  crawl,  and  they  are  the 
creatures  who  always  fill  up  such  holes  as  that." 

He  pointed  to  a  liquor  saloon  they  were  passing, 
where,  out  of  the  open  door,  came  the  shouts  and 
yells  of  a  free  fight  of  some  sort. 

"  Birds  of  a'feather  flock  together.  If  a  fellow  is 
one  of  them  and  gets  in  there,  the  risk  is  his  own. 
When  they  get  drunk,  they  are  as  much  meaner  in 
proportion  as  other  people  are  when  they  get  drunk. 
Those  are  the  fellows  who  do  the  real  shooting,  as  a 
rule.  They're  not  very  often  able  to  hit  the  man 
they  aim  at,  but  they  usually  hit  somebody  in  the 
saloon,  and  the  chances  are  that  it  will  prove  a  bless- 
ing to  the  place  in  the  end,  whoever  it  is ;  especially 
if  the  fellow  who  shoots  loses  his  life  for  it,  too." 

"  They  tackle  strangers,  too,  sometimes,"  Oscar 
remarked,  referring,  mentally,,  to  the  peculiar  actions 
of  the  men  who  had  just  passed  them. 

"  Anybody  in  a  saloon  must  run  his  chances," 
Charlie  replied ;  "  and  the  greener  he  is,  the  greater 


272  DEADWOOD. 

the  chances,  of  course,  of  attracting  a  bully's  atten- 
tion. Better  not  go  to  saloons  at  all.  That's  my 
opinion." 

"  But  outside  of  the  saloons?  "  Oscar  insisted. 

* 

"  Why,  of  course  there  are  chances,"  Charlie  ad- 
mitted. "That's  why  you  wear  a  six-shooter,  and 
carry  a  rifle.  As  long  as  there  are  Indians  on  the 
plain,  and  fools  in  frontier  towns,  we  shall  have  to  be 
armed.  It's  an  ounce  of  prevention,  and  is  worth  a 
pound  of  lead  inside  of  the  guns.  If  a  fellow  minds 
his  own  business,  and  neither  swells,  gets  drunk,  or 
loses  his  temper,  so  long  as  he  looks  as  if  he  were 
well  armed  I  would  be  willing  to  wager  anything 
that  he  could  live  in  Leadville  with  as  little  real  use 
for  powder  as  if  he  were  in  the  city  of  Boston.  If 
any  one  comes  round  a  place  like  this  and  puts  on 
airs,  though,  he's  very  likely  to  receive  some  sugges- 
tions on  the  great  American  dogma  of  equality.  There 
was  a  sprig  from  somewhere  came  out  here  to  invest  a 
fortune  in  the  mines,  and. struck  Leadville  in  a  pair 
of  patent  leather  boots,  a  plug  hat  and  a  duster.  The 
driver  stopped  his  stage  a  good  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  hotel,  so's  he'd  have  to  walk  and  give  the  fellers  a 
sight.  Well,  he  took  his  grip  and  began  mincing 
along  in  the  dust,  and  straightaway  the  fellers  began 
to  fall  in  behind  him,  close  rank  and  single  file,  minc- 
ing along  just  the  same,  till  there  were  about  fifty  men, 
like  the  tail  of  a  comet,  pulling  in  behind.  His  face 


DEADWOOD.  273 

was  as  white  as  a  snowdrift,  aucl  he  was  the  seamiest 
man  you  ever  saw.  Then  some  one  struck  up  singing 
'  Does  your  mother  know  you're  out  ? '  and  he  made  a 
break  and  ran  into  a  restaurant ;  while  the  fellows 
gathered  round  the  door  and  gave  him  a  free  concert." 

"  I  say,  Charlie,"  Oscar  interrupted,  "  what  did 
that  fellow  mean  who  rode  up,  just  now,  and  clear 
round  us,  and  there  he  goes  back  again,  as  fast  as  his 
horse  can  run  ?  " 

"  Did  he  ?  I  didn't  notice,"  Charlie  responded, 
carelessly.  "  Hope  he  saw  all  he  wanted  to.  He's 
going  off  as  though  he  was  satisfied." 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Charlie?"  Oscar 
muttered.  "  You  don't  seem  to  notice  anything. 
Back  there  on  the  plain  you  knew  if  a  grasshopper 
jumped,  a  mile  away." 

"  That  was  back  on  the  plain.  This  is  the  public 
thoroughfare  of  immortal  Dead  wood,"  Charlie  returned, 
laughing. 

"  Well,  I'm  a  heap  more  afraid  here  than  I  was 
there,"  Oscar  said. 

"  And  I  was  a  heap  more  afraid  there  than  I  am 
here,"  Charlie  added,  "  which  makes  all  the  difference 
between  us,  and  the  way  we  keep  track  of  what  is 
going  on." 

At  that  moment  three  men  rode  up  to  them.  It 
was  quite  dark  now,  but  they  could  see  by  the  lights 
ahead  that  they  were  approaching  the  body  of  the  Y, 


274  DEA.DWOOD. 

the  center  of  the  city,  where  Harry  Porter,  the  college 
stage  driver,  had  promised  to  secure  rooms  for  them,  and 
meet  them  on  their  arrival.  The  three  men  turned  and 
rode  back  beside  them.  Presently  one  of  them  asked  : 

"  Is  them  your  mules,  stranger  ?  " 

"  Reckon  they're  as  much  mine  as  they  are  yours, 
'tenerate,"  Charlie  replied  indifferently,  swinging  one 
leg  over  the  side-pocket  of  his  saddle. 

"  You  jest  hold  yer  hosses,  now,"  returned  the  man. 
"  I  ain't  a-jumpin'  no  claims  ternight,  nor  drawin'  no 
comparisons.  I'm  jest  a-axin'  ye,  civil  likes,  be  them 
your  mules  ?  " 

"  Can't  ye  see  that  they're  anchored  ter  my  saddle  ?  " 

"I'll  'low  yer  towin'  on  'um,"  said  the  man  ;  "  but 
be  ye  towin'  'um  on  yer  own  account,  or  fur  summon 
else  ?  That's  what  I'm  axin'." 

Charlie  laughed  as  he  replied :  "  You  fellers  seems 
ter  be  powerful  anxious  'bout  them  long-eared  critters 
hangin'  outer  me.  P'r'aps  you'd  better  jest  try  lightin' 
on  one  of  'um,  fur  the  sake  on't,  ef  yer  wanter  find 
out  quicker'n  scat  how  much  personal  interest  I  take 
in  him.  Chin  music's  been  plenty,  and  target  shootin' 
scarce'n  hens'  teeth  for  a  piece  back,  and  we're  kinder 
hankerin'  fur  variety.  See  ?  " 

"  You  jest  keep  yer  shootin'  irons  fur  them  as  isn't 
stuffed  so  full  o'  lead  a'ready  that  a  bullet  couldn't 
git  into  'um  edgewise,"  the  man  replied,  and  the  three 
laughed  and  rode  away  toward  the  center  again. 


DEADWOOD.  275 

"Them's  'um.  We're  O  K,"  they  heard  one  of 
the  men  remark,  as  they  started  off  at  a  rapid  pace. 

"  I  told  you  there  was  something  wrong.  What  in 
the  world  does  it  mean  ?  "  Oscar  muttered. 

"  Switched  if  I  know,"  Charlie  replied,  swinging 
his  foot.  "  They  seem  to  take  a  lively  interest  in 
these  mules.  I  presume  they  were  stolen  from  some 
one,  and  like  as  not  it  was  some  one  in  Deadwood. 
Maybe  their  owner  has  spotted  'um." 

"They  don't  take  us  for  horse  thieves,  do  they?" 
Oscar  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  Shouldn't  wonder,"  Charlie  replied,  with  a  short 
laugh,  as  though  it  was  a  good  joke.  "  Wouldn't 
you,  if  your  horse  had  been  stolen,  and  you  saw  some 
one,  coming  down  the  street,  towing  him  by  a  lead 
line?" 

"  It  would  depend  somewhat  upon  whether  he  looked 
like  a  horse  thief  or  not,"  Oscar  replied. 

"  Well,  don't  you  flatter  yourself  that,  after  what 
we  have  been  through,  we  are  any  great  improvement 
on  good,  respectable  horse  thieves,  so  far  as  personal 
appearance  is  concerned,"  Charlie  interrupted.  "And 
all  cats  are  black  when  the  lights  are  out,  you  know." 

Charlie  finished  his  sentence  with  a  low  whistle, 
and  suddenly  swung  himself  back  to  an  erect  position 
on  his  saddle,  and  the  two  looked  down  the  street. 

Ahead  of  them  there  was  an  open  space  like  a  square. 
It  was  easy  to  see  that  a  crowd  of  people  was  gathered 


276  DEADWOOD. 

there,  and  looking  eagerly  toward  them ;  while  flick- 
ering lights  from  various  sources  dancing  over  them 
made  the  scene  more  exciting  and  mysterious.  To 
add  to  the  peculiarity  of  the  position,  a  voice  from  in 
front  of  the  crowd  could  be  distinctly  heard,  remark- 
ing: "Them's  'um,  boys.  Now  mum's  the  word." 

"  If  they've  got  a  liberty  pole  or  a  lamp  post  handy, 
and  a  good  rope,  all  they  need  is  a  couple  of  horse 
thieves,  to  have  a  first-class  funeral  there  to-night," 
Charlie  muttered. 

"  Do  you  think  that  we'd  better  go  on  ? "  Oscar 
asked. 

"  This  is  about  the  only  road  I  see  running  that 
way,"  Charlie  remarked.  "  You  just  hook  on  to  this 
tow  line,  and  let  me  ride  a  step  or  two  ahead." 

"  Not  if  you're  going  to  do  any  fighting,  I  won't," 
Oscar  replied  decidedly.  "  If  that's  it,  we'll  just  drop 
the  mules  altogether,  for  I'm  going  with  you,  and  if 
they  hang  one  they  can  hang  us  both." 

"  There's  many  an  honest  man  been  hanged  for 
a  horse  thief  before  this,"  Charlie  answered.  "But 
don't  be  alarmed.  There'll  be  no  hanging  here  to- 
night. They're  laying  for  us,  and  no  mistake ;  but 
all  the  fighting  I  shall  do  is  with  my  tongue.  If  that 
don't  fix  it  we'll  let  them  put  us  up  at  the  Govern- 
ment House  till  morning,  if  they  insist  on  it ;  but  I 
reckon  they  won't.  Hold  on  to  the  mules,  for  if  they 
think  we  stole  them  it  would  go  against  us  bad  to 


DEADWOOD.  277 

drop  them ;    and  whatever  comes,  don't  touch  your 
shooters  if  you  value  your  life." 

Oscar  was  satisfied,  and  took  the  lead  lines,  falling 
a  little  behind.  As  they  approached  the  square  the 
men  fell  back,  leaving  a  passage  between  them. 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Charlie  rode  directly 
forward  and  Oscar  followed  close  behind.  It  was  the 
strangest  sensation  he  had  ever  experienced.  That 
line  of  grim  and  silent  upturned  faces  looked  hideous 
in  the  cross-lights  and  shadows,  watching  him  as 
though  he  was  the  greatest  curiosity  in  the  world. 
Were  the  men  only  waiting  for  a  signal  from  some 
one  to  drag  him  from  his  saddle,  throw  a  rope  about 
his  neck  and  hang  him  for  a  horse  thief?  In  the 
flaring  lights  of  the  square  their  seamed  and  eager 
faces  looked  it.  If  they  would  only  say  something, 
do  something.  It  seemed  as  if  it  would  be  a  relief  to 
have  them  make  the  dash  at  him.  Then  he  would  fight, 
in  spite  of  Charlie's  admonition. 

With  every  muscle  strained,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on 
Charlie,  he  rode  on  a  few  steps  farther,  when,  just  as 
they  were  in  the  very  center  of  the  crowd,  the  men 
closed  in  upon  them  from  behind  and  formed  a  solid 
wall  in  front,  while  one  big  fellow  caught  the  bridle 
of  Charlie's  horse. 

Oscar  cringed.  He  hugged  his  feet  under  Sancho 
and  almost  caught  his  pistol  from  his  belt.  It  would 
have  been  a  very  doubtful  struggle  to  have  fought  his 


278  DEADWOOD. 

way  through  that  crowd  of  earliest  men ;  but  he  felt 
that  it  would  be  easier  to  try  it,  at  least,  than  to  sit 
there  waiting  for  them  to  treat  him  as  they  pleased. 
Charlie's  example  was  all  that  restrained  him.  He 
saw  Charlie  deliberately  stuff  his  hands  into  his 
pockets,  lean  back  in  his  saddle,  and  remark: 

"  Well,  stranger,  do  you  make  a  livin'  holdin'  hosses 
'out  bein'  axed  ?  Ef  that's  the  custom  in  these  parts 
I'll  gin  ye  a  quarter  an'  yer  kin  let  go  ;  'cause  my 
critter'll  stand,  'out  a  hitchin'  post,  whensever  I  git 
good  an'  ready  ter  stop,  the  which  ain't  jest  this  minit." 

"  Look  a-here,  Mister,"  the  big  man  replied,  with- 
out the  least  intention  of  dropping  the  bridle,  "  we 
hain't  come  out  here  to  give  or  take  no  back  talk. 
The  fust  thing  we  folks  wants  ter  know  is  whar  you 
two  fellers  come  frum  and  whar  yer  goin'  ?  " 

As  Oscar  sat  there,  trembling  and  listening,  he 
asked  himself  for  the  thousandth  time  what  he  should 
have  done  if  he  had  taken  that  trip  alone.  He  would 
really  have  trembled  much  less,  and  would  doubtless 
have  done  precisely  as  Charlie  did  —  made  the  best  of 
everything  ;  for  while  it  is  very  true  that  they  also 
serve  who  only  stand  and  wait,  any  one  who  has  tried 
it  and  can  speak  from  experience,  is  sure  to  say  that 
by  far  the  most  difficult  task  of  all  is  that  same 
standing  and  waiting.  Oscar  did  not  think  of  that, 
however.  He  simply  appreciated  the  fact  that  he  was 
frightened.  * 


DEADWOOD.  279 

Instantly  Charlie  answered,  "  We  come  from  Mani- 
toba, gentlemen,  and  when  you'll  show  me  that  where 
we're  goin'  is  any  of  your  biz,  I'll  let  you  know." 

"  Thet  hain't  sayin'  nuthin'  'bout  how  ye  cum  by 
them  mules,  is  it  now,  Mister  ?  "  asked  the  big  man 
at  the  bridle,  with  a  suggestive  grin  ;  and  a  voice  from 
the  crowd  called  :  "  Ded  ye  fetch  'um  all  the  way 
frum  Manitoby  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  axe  me  whar  the  mules  come  frum," 
Charlie  responded,  "  or  like  enough  I  monght  'a'  told 
yer"- 

"  Waal,  go  on  an'  tell  us  now,"  interrupted  the 
big  fellow,  and  the  crowd  gathered  closer  as  Charlie 
quickly  continued : 

"  Like  enough  I  mought  'a'  told  yer  that  that  cnme 
putty  nigh  bein'  our  own  biz,  jest  now." 

There  was  a  wild  yell  from  the  crowd.  Oscar 
started  in  his  saddle ;  yet  no  one  seemed  inclined  to 
lay  hands  on  him. 

When  the  yelling  ceased  the  spokesman  continued  : 
"  That  there's  jest  the  gist  on't,  stranger.  Them 
mules  has  been  assayed  as  stolen  property." 

"  I  presume  they  are,"  was  Charlie's  cool  response. 
"  Hosses  an'  mules  in  the  West  is  a  good  deal  like 
umbrellas  in  the  East." 

"  Waal,  do  you  happen  to  know,  too,  stranger,  the 
way  we  folks  smelt  up  a  vein  o'  hoss  thieves,  in  these 
diggin's,  when  we  strike  it  rich  ? "  the  spokesman 


280  DEADWOOD. 

asked,  and  the  words  were  no  more  than  out  of  his 
mouth  when  Charlie  replied  : 

"  Ef  you  want  points  on  handlin'  hoss  thieves,  I'm 
yer  man  ;  but  ef  it's  exercise  in  the  art  that  ye're 
arter,  and  ye're  prospectin'  my  way  for  a  subject,  I 
can  tell  yer  at  the  start  that  ye've  got  the  wrong  pig 
by  the  ear.  Now,  then,  pard,  ye've  come  putty  close 
on  to  hintiii'  at  charges  that  no  man  makes  agfiii  me 

o  o 

and  lives.  Ef  you've  got  any  honest  doubts  that 
you'd  liked  cleared  away,  I'll  clear  'um.  But  you 
come  one  hair  nearer  to  savin'  that  I'm  a  hoss  thief, 
and  I'll  put  a  ray  o'  sunlight  inter  you  before  you  kin 
git  yer  mouth  shut,  ,Open  up  yer  sluices,  now  ;  wash 
out  the  dirt  and  gin  us  the  dust  clean  and  straight. 
Say  what  ye  have  ter  say,  and  say  it  quick." 

"  Waal,  now,  I'll  tell  yer,  stranger,  it's  jest  this 
way,"  said  the  man.  "  Thar  ain't  no  call  fur  shootin' 
irons  ternight,  not  but  that  I've  been  shot  at  in  my 
day  an'  been  able  ter  shoot  back.  Leastwise  I've  got 
firearms  handy,  an'  I  know  how  ter  use  'um.  But 
the  hull  on't  is,  we  know  them  mules  ter  be  stolen 
goods,  an'  we've  see  the  fellers  that  straddled  'um. 
Now  we  don't  make  no  pussonal  charges  till  we're 
staked  out  an'  know  that  we've  got  a  sure  thing. 
Nevertheless,  we  don't  perpose  ter  let  two  sech  fellers 
as  you  an'  that  youngster  go  no  further  through  this 
town  'out  payin'  yer  some  attention.  We've  chipped 
in  an'  laid  out  as  putty  a  spread  as  the  town  affords 


DEADWOOD.  281 

on  short  notice,  which  ain't  no  great,  it's  true,  but 
we've  come  out  ter  axe  ye  ter  honor  us  by  grubbin'  up 
with  us.  'Tain't  every  day  we  comes  acrost  two  fel- 
lers that  kin  hold  up  three  o'  the  worst  road  agents 
in  the  country,  an'  we'd  everlastin'  like  ter  git  a  better 
look  at  yer.  Will  yer  come  ?  " 

"That's  more  like  biz,"  Charlie  remarked,  while 
Oscar  hardly  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  cry  in  the 
sudden  reaction.  "  Ef  ye'll  axe  me  ag'in,  now,  whar 
we're  goin',  I'll  tell  ye  quick  enough  that  we're  goin' 
ter  grub." 

Some  one  shouted,  "  Three  cheers  for  the  hoss 
thieves !  "  and  they  were  given  lustily.  Then  a  voice 
cried,  "  Three  cheers  for  the  youngster !  "  and  the 
heart  of  Deadwood  rang  again. 

In  the  momentary  hush  that  followed  a  clear  voice 
in  the  rear  called,  "  Now,  then,  three  more  for  them 
mules  ! "  and  in  the  roar  of  laughter  which  followed 
they  started  for  the  largest  hall  in  Deadwood. 

The  dinner  was  one  which  might  never  find  a  coun- 
terpart. Abundant  gold  dust  had  done  its  best.  Of 
all  places  in  the  world  where  highwaymen  are  hated 
and  personal  bravery  admired,  such  a  location  as  Dead- 
wood  in  its  earlier  history  has  no  equal.  The  three 
highwaymen  had  rendered  the  route  from  Bismarck 
almost  deserted.  Every  effort  had  been  made  in  vain 
to  capture  them.  They  had  only  become  more  daring 
and  aggressive.  Now,  after  soldiers,  volunteers  and 


282  DEADWOOD. 

all  had  failed,  two  travelers,  one  of  them  a  boy, 
brought  in  —  not  proof  that  some  one  of  the  outlaws 
had  been  shot,  but  all  three  alive  and  well.  No  won- 
der they  wanted  to  honor  them. 

The  two  leading  hotels  had  been  taxed  to  their 
utmost.  They  drained  every  market.  Fruit  was  an 
expensive  luxury  that  ordinarily  found  a  poor  sale,  but 
from  raisins  to  apples  there  could  not  have  been  found 
a  dime's  worth  for  sale  when  their  purchase  was  com- 
pleted. A  trapper  appeared  with  a  bear,  and  instantly 
sold  him,  whole,  for  more  than  he  expected  to  receive 
by  peddling  bear's  stakes  from  house  to  house,  all  day. 
The  bake  shops  turned  out  their  best,  no  matter  what 
it  was,  and  the  whole  promiscuous  upper  ten  of  Dead- 
wood  society  was  on  hand. 

The  company  was  an  assortment  as  peculiar  as  the 
feast.  There  were  men  there  who  had  honored  the 
most  artistic  dining  saloons  of  the  refined  East.  There 
were  men  who  were  no  strangers  to  banquets  in  the 
great  cities  of  the  Old  World.  There  were  men  from 
homes  where  refinement  was  so  pure  ana  unaffected 
that  an  uncouth  word  or  act  would  have  been  simply 
impossible.  They  were  entertaining  a  Harvard  grad- 
uate, too,  and  an  Oxford  student.  But  who  would 
have  thought  it? 

They  were  all  in  the  Black  Hills  now,  and  the  Black 
Hills  as  they  were  when  all  who  were  at  the  Black 
Hills  were  one.  They  were  rough,  hearty,  boisterous, 


DEADWOOD.  283 

earnest  men  ;  quite  capable  of  hating  life's  hypocrisies 
and  honoring  its  nobilities,  in  spite  of  the  coats  of 
mental,  physical  and  social  tan  that  covered  them. 

There  were  men  there  who  were  manipulating  mil- 
lions, and  men  who  were  working  on  grub-stakes,  but 
they,  too,  were  all  one ;  for  it  is  one  of  the  eccentrici- 
ties of  nature,  that  at  the  very  places  where  gathering 
of  gold  and  silver  is  the  one  ambition  and  energy  of 
life,  the  possession  of  it  has  the  least  power  to  give  an 
unworthy  man  influence  and  authority,  and  win  for 
him  the  servile  homage  of  his  fellow  men. 

The  dinner  was  a  grand  success,  closing  with  the 
presentation  of  the  purse  of  three  thousand  five  hun- 
dred dollars.  It  was  late  when  it  was  over,  but  as 
Harry  Porter  was  to  leave  early  in  the  morning,  they 
sat  in  his  room  with  him  afterward. 

The  stage  driver  is  a  most  important  personage  in 
a  frontier  town.  He  knows  every  one,  and  in  his 
official  capacity  has  to  do  with  almost  every  one. 

"  Speaking  of  Manitoba  Lake,"  Harry  said,  "  I 
brought  a  fellow  down  some  weeks  ago,  who  said  he 
had  just  been  up  there,  investing  ;  and  he  talked  great 
about  it.  I  told  him  I  thought  it  would  have  been 
better  for  the  States  if  he  had  stopped  there  ;  for  he 
wasn't  much  liked  in  these  parts.  He's  a  first-class 
humbug,  and  humbugs  don't  go  down  here,  you  know. 
He  was  a  first-class  coward,  too.  Humbugs  always 
are,  I  guess.  We  were  held  up,  that  night.  Those 


284  DEADWOOD. 

fellows  got  the  best  of  me  by  fastening  a  black  rope 
across  the  road  and  throwing  my  leaders.  Before  I 
could  get  them  on  their  feet  again  the  fellows  had  the 
drop  on  us  from  behind  the  trees,  where  we  couldn't 
get  at  them,  and  while  we  were  at  the  horses  they 
went  through  the  stage.  You  ought  to  have  seen  that 
fellow  shell  out  his  watch  and  trinkets  anc^  dust. 
And  how  he  did  shake !  He'll  not  show  up  here 
again,  though.  He  had  a  claim  that  was  panning  out 
something  great,  and  he  tried  to  jump  a  poor  fellow's 
claim  lying  next  and  freeze  him  out.  The  folks  got 
on  to  him,  though,  and  the  committee  waited  on  him 
and  gave  him  forty-eight  hours  to  give  it  back  and 
git.  They  say  he  sold  out  at  a  pretty  good  figure. 
Those  skunks  generally  do  suck  in  the  fat,  somehow  ; 
but  he's  gone,  and  we're  well  rid  of  him.  If  he  ever 
turns  up  in  Manitoba,  look  out.  A  small  man,  short 
one  little  finger  ?  Yes.  That's  him.  So  you've  seen 
him  before  ?  Well,  that's  funny.  I  tell  you,  this  is 
a  mighty  small  world  when  you  come  right  down  to  it. 
What  ?  You  want  to  strike  him  again  ?  Well,  that's 
funnier  yet.  You  must  think  more  of  him  than  most 
folks ;  but  I  guess  you'll  be  pretty  apt  to  find  him  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Leadville,  unless  he  gets  the 
good-by  from  there,  too.  His  lawyer,  here,  told  me 
yesterday  that  he  had  heard  from  him  down  there,  and 
that  he  was  taking  a  big  pile  of  dust  out  of  the  ground 
from  some  claims  he  was  working  there.  By  the  way, 


DEADWOOD.  285 

Charlie,  what  have  you  been  doing  up  in  Manitoba, 
any  way  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  I've  been  camping  out  on  the  Half-circle-dash 
range,  punching  cows  for  a  living."  He  was  about  to 
put  another  question  when  Harry  interrupted  : 

"  Half-circle-dash !  Hold  up  a  bit.  Half-circle- 
dash  !  You  don't  say !  I  never  thought  of  it  from 
that  time  to  this.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that  you 
might  be  those  fellows.  I  was  looking  for  cowboys, 
and,  in  fact,  when  I  met  you  I  was  so  excited,  finding 
who  you  were  and  seeing  those  agents  along  with  you, 
that  I  never  thought  of  it  at  all."  He  was  fumbling 
away  in  his  stage  box.  "  I've  got  a  letter  for  yon 
somewhere  here.  It's  the  funniest  thing  out,  I  de- 
clare !  You  see,  I  was  just  coming  up  to  the  gulch,  a 
little  after  daylight,  instead  of  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning  as  usual,  when  I  ran  on  to  a  little  Indian  boy, 
sitting  by  the  road,  hugging  the  head  of  a  white  pony. 
The  pony  was  dead  as  a  door  nail,  and  the  boy  was 
crying  like  water  through  a  sluice  sieve.  I  was  kind 
of  sorry  for  him,  and  held  up  till  we  made  up  a  little 
purse  between  us,  and  passed  it  over.  Come  to  find 
out,  he  could  speak  English  like  a  book.  He  said  the 
squaw  from  the  sod  house  by  the  well  got  mad  and 
killed  his  horse  so  he  could  not  go  on  ;  but  he  had  a 
letter  for  two  Half-circle-dash  fellows  who  were  some- 
where between  there  and  Dead  wood.  Here  it  is. 
Only  a  piece  of  brown  paper." 


286 


DEADWOOD. 


When  they  were  alone,  a  little  later,  they  opened 
the  paper  and  read  what  the  Indian  had  scratched 
with  a  bullet : 

"  Heap  pale  face  tepee  soon.  Indian  no  more  need. 
Great  Spirit  keep  open  eye.  Indian  go  back  now." 

"  Poor  little  fellow,"  Charlie  said  earnestly,  as  he 
laid  down  the  paper.  "  So  the  squatter's  squaw  got 


"THE   BOY   WAS   CRYING. " 

wind  of  what  had  happened  and  killed  his  pony  for 
the  part  he  played.  But  the  brave  little  chap  wouldn't 
acknowledge  it  in  the  letter." 

"  I'd  like  to  scalp  her,"  Oscar  muttered. 

"  Easy,"  Charlie  interrupted.  "  That's  the  way  I 
felt  about  all  the  Indians ;  but  this  little  fellow  has 
pulled  my  eyes  open.  His  traits  and  characteristics 


DEADWOOD.  287 

are  pure  Indian,  only  he  has  directed  them  in  a  way 
that  we  can  appreciate,  and  the  result  is  we  admire 
him.  That  squaw  waj  doing  precisely  the  same  thing 
for  the  old  squatter,  and  I  begin  to  think  that  if  I 
studied  them  more  charitably,  instead  of  hating  them 
at  sight,  I  should  find  a  heap  more  nobility  and  story- 
book romance  about  them.  The  fact  is,  they  never 
stop  to  think.  They  never  have  any  half-way.  If 
they  believe  they  have  cause  to  be  friendly  they  do 
everything  that  comes  to  hand  to  show  it,  in  a  way  so 
generous  and  self-sacrificing  that  one  would  be  a  brute 
not  to  admire  them ;  while  if  they  feel  that  they  have 
cause  for  revenge  they  just  reverse  the  whole.  And 
the  trouble  is,  we've  got  to  admit,  ninety-nine  Indians 
out  of  every  hundred,  wherever  you  find  them,  have 
excellent  cause  for  vengeance.  I  wish  they  were  a 
little  cleaner  and  a  little  less  lazy  and  hoggish  when 
they  have  nothing  to  do,  if  I  have  got  to  turn  about 
and  befriend  them  ;  but  if  they  were  they  would  not 
be  Indians.  That's  all  there  is  to  it." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  that  boy  will  have  to  walk  all 
the  way  back  to  Manitoba?  "  Oscar  asked  anxiously. 

"O,  no!  He'll  steal  a  horse  directly,  and  be  all 
right  again,"  Charlie  replied  carelessly. 

"  Steal !  "   Oscar  exclaimed  indignantly. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Charlie,  laughing.  "  It's  the 
nature  of  the  beast.  You  are  just  as  bad  as  I  am. 
You  think  because  an  Indian  has  been  kind  to  you 


288  DEAD  WOOD. 

that  he  never  could  steal  a  horse  from  any  one,  and  1 
think  because  he  steals  horses  that  he  can't  have  any 
nobility  in  him.  Let's  shake  ourselves  up,  together, 
and  we  shall  come  at  a  better  estimate  of  the  Lo 
family.  And  now  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  your 
three  thousand  five  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  Mine,"  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  If  ever  a  dollar  be- 
longed to  any  one,  that  money  belongs  to  you." 

"  Look  here !  "  Charlie  interrupted  quickly,  "  I've 
told  you  once  that  I  was  not  dead  struck  on  cash. 
I've  got  enough  now  to  keep  me,  if  I  was  to  be  blind 
or  anything,  and  I  wouldn't  go  saddle  my  horse  to 
double  it.  On  the  other  hand,  this  trip  is  yours,  and 
any  funerals  along  the  way  are  your  funerals.  -You 
can  pay  me  back  the  expenses  of  the  trip  if  you  want 
to,  to  make  yourself  feel  easy.  More  than  that  I  will 
not  touch,  and  that  settles  it." 

Oscar  saw  that  Charlie  was  thoroughly  in  earnest 
and  replied : 

"  All  right,  Charlie.  It's  not  worth  fighting  over, 
any  way.  It's  good  for  nothing  but  to  spend,  and  all 
that  either  of  us  could  do  with  it  would  be  to  decide 
how  to  spend  it  to  the  best  advantage.  I've  thought 
of  one  way ;  see  if  you  agree  with  me  ?  You  take  five 
hundred,  for  past  expenses  and  future  contingencies, 
and  we'll  devote  the  three  thousand  to  giving  that 
Indian  boy  an  education  and  a  chance  to  make  the 
most  of  his  good  qualities." 


.  f 


DEADWOOD.  289. 

"  Good,"  said  Charlie.  "  The  next  thing  is  to  get 
hold  of  him." 

"  I've  been  thinking  of  that,"  Oscar  replied.  u  He 
must  have  been  the  one  who  brought  Saucho  to  me  at 
the  ranch  house,  and  from  the  letter  the  keeper  wrote 
I  think  he  knew  who  it  was.  The  pony  came  from 
the  farm.  I  noticed  the  brand  under  his  mane  while 
I  was  riding,  but  I  forgot  to  speak  about  it  afterward. 
He  never  could  have  got  those  arms  of  father's  except 
the  keeper  had  given  them  to  him.  I  think  that  keeper 
ij  a  pretty  square  fellosv,  and  if  we  write  to  him  about 
it,  and  send  him  five  hundred  dollars  to  begin  upon, 
it'll  be  all  right,  won't  it  ?  " 

Charlie  thought  for  a  moment,  and  replied :  "  It's 
trusting  a  stranger,  of  course,  but  I  liked  his  letter. 
It  sounded  like  a  straight  man.  At  any  rate,  it  is  the 
only  way  to  do  at  present.  Now  for  the  next  step.  I 
suppose  we  strike  for  Leadville?"  Oscar  nodded. 
"  I  don't  know  what  you  propose  to  do  when  you  hit 
your  man  there,  but  I  don't  believe  you  will  ever 
accomplish  anything  with  him  except  by  accident. 
He's  a  scamp,  through  and  through.  You  must  keep 
that  in  mind,  and  remember  that  a  scamp  is  not  in- 
fluenced and  affected  according  to  the  mental  and 
moral  laws  that  work  in  an  honest  mind.  A  wounded 
crane  will  fight,  and  a  wounded  deer  will  run  as  surely 
as  oil  will  float  and  a  stone  sink  in  water;  but  you 
never  can  tell  what  a  coward  and  a  fraud  will  do  when 


290  DEADWOOD. 

you  drive  him  into  a  corner.  You'll  find  that  he's 
covered  up  his  tracks  too  carefully  to  be  caught  by  a 
straight  hunt.  He  fired  that  shot  as  the  price  of  a 
big  deal  for  himself.  Don't  imagine  that  you  are 
either  going  to  shame  him,  confound  him,  or  prove 
anything  by  straight,  open  work.  You'll  find  that  he 
isn't  made  that  way.  Lie  low  and  wait  for  some 
accident  to  put  him  in  your  power,  or  I'm  afraid  you'll 
find  he  is  more  than  a  match  for  you." 

"  I'll  remember  what  you  say,  Charlie,"  Oscar  said, 
"  and  I  know  you  are  right,  for  you  always  are ;  but 
it  is  what  I  have  come  to  accomplish,  and  with  your 
help  I  am  going  to  accomplish  it." 

Charlie  gave  his  hand  in  a  way  that  left  no  doubt 
as  to  the  quality  of  aid  he  was  to  receive  from  that 
quarter. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE   INDIAN    QUESTION. 

WITH  at  least  a  limited  amount  of  absolute  knowl- 
edge ahead  of  them,  Oscar  and  Charlie  were  now  in 
the  greatest  haste  to  reach  their  destination  ;  but  there 
was  the  difficulty,  in  shortening  the  journey  by  taking 
advantage  of  the  railroad,  that  they  had  never  seen 
the  man  they  were  after,  while  he  had  at  least  seen 
Oscar,  and  if  he  had  heard  of  his  departure  from 
Manitoba  he  might  be  on  the  watch  for  him.  If  he 
watched  anything  it  would  be  the  railways  and  stage 
lines,  and  to  have  him  forewarned  would  mean  the 
greatest  possible  obstruction  in  their  way.  They  de- 
cided to  strike  the  trail  again,  and  follow  the  most 
direct  route  through  Wyoming  to  Leadville. 

Deadwood  had  little  that  was  of  further  interest  to 
them,  and  the  notoriety  which  they  had  gained  was 
not  at  all  to  their  tastes ;  so  that  as  soon  as  the  horses 
were  in  condition  they  started  again  down  the  famous 
Deadwood  Gulch.  There  was  no  doubt  as  to  the 

291 


292  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

origin  of  its  name.  The  hills  were  ragged  and  rocky 
about  them,  full  of  caverns  and  gorges  which  might 
easily  have  sheltered  every  Indian  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi without  betraying  the  presence  of  a  single  red 
skin,  while  here  and  there,  like  solitary  sentinels,  or  in 
grim  clusters,  rose  the  gaunt  dead  trunks  of  trees. 

Miners'  shanties,  singly  or  in  little  groups,  were 
everywhere,  and  they  frequently  passed  more  extensive 
settlements  sometimes  dignified  by  the  name  of  town, 
sometimes  called  cities,  chiefly  composed  of  liquor 
saloons  and  grocery  stores.  Some  were  only  half-built 
and  deserted,  some  already  falling  to  ruin.  For  a  time, 
too,  there  was  company  enough  if  they  had  desired  it, 
and  comparatively  little  fear  of  Indians,  though  the 
disturbances  in  the  northern  reservations  had  already 
reached  the  agencies  to  the  west  of  them,  and  many 
reports  were  brought  from  Wyoming  of  the  rough 
treatment  which  the  settlers  were  receiving  from  the 
Sioux  there. 

For  several  days  there  was  only  the  constantly 
changing  magnificence  of  the  mountains  to  make  one 
hour  differ  from  another.  There  was  no  excitement  to 
keep  them  constantly  on  their  guard,  and  no  shooting, 
the  game  had  been  so  effectually  driven  away  by  hun- 
gry miners.  The  depressing  atmosphere  of  mines  and 
mining,  however,  gradually  disappeared  as  they  reached 
the  wilder  tablelands  of  Wyoming. 

"Mining  may  look  well  enough  on  paper,"  Oscar 


THE  LAST  OF  PEAUWOOP  GULCH. 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  295 

said  one  day,  u  and  it's  fine  to  read  about  the  bonanza 
kings,  but  I  tell  you  there's  too  much  sadness  in  the 
reality  to  suit  me.  I  wouldn't  spend  my  life  digging 
in  the  Black  Hills  if  I  could  own  the  whole  of  them 
to  pay.  There  are  too  many  deserted  holes,  too  many 
ruined  shanties,  too  many  half-starved,  ragged,  wretched 
creatures  about,  and  too  many  graves  everywhere.  I 
wish  that  the  stories  of  failure  could  be  told  as  often 
and  graphically  as  the  stories  of  success.  I  think  some 
fellows  would  give  up  the  idea  of  jumping  into  fortunes 
without  working  for  them,  then,  and  would  come  out 
on  to  the  farms  and  ranches,  instead  of  to  the  mines." 

"Hold  on,  Oscar,"  Charlie  interrupted,  with  a  smile. 
"  You  are  talking  like  a  philosopher  now,  and  philoso- 
pher is  only  another  name  for  a  poor  man  who  has 
made  a  failure  himself  in  the  race  for  riches.  It  is 
not  at  all  impossible  that  you  will  come  out  of  this 
scrape  a  big  rich  mine  owner  yourself,  coining  money 
without  lifting  your  finger,  and  you  may  wish,  then, 
that  you  hadn't  talked  too  strong  on  the  other  side." 

"  I  said  that  I  would  not  work  at  mining  for  the 
whole  of  the  Black  Hills,  and  it's  a  fact,"  Oscar  in- 
sisted. "  If  I  am  poor  as  poverty  I  shall  not  come 
here  to  earn  a  living,  I  promise  you.  If  I  ever 
do  own  a  big  mine,  as  you  say,  I  hope  that  I  shall 
have  the  good  sense  to  make  the  income  accomplish 
something  for  the  good  of  the  world-.  At  any  rate, 
you'll  never  find  me  standing  over  it.  Ranching  and 


296  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

ranging  are  good  enough  for  me,  and  I'd  rather  be  a 
ranchman  and  ranger  than  the  biggest  mine  owner  in 
the  country ;  so  if  I  come  out  of  this  trip  as  poor  as  I 
began,  which  is  all  that  I  expect  or  wish,  I'm  just  go- 
ing to  strike  for  some  place  under  you,  on  the  best 
ranch  we  can  find,  and  do  the  best  I  can." 

By  degrees  they  lost  sight  of  the  signs  of  civiliza- 
tion again,  and  crossed  the  Indian  trails  leading  to 
the  various  reservations,  now  and  then  passing  small 
bands  of  Indians,  who  paid  them  no  attention,  how- 
ever, beyond  a  guttural  grunt  or  muttered  "How?" 

Again  they  began  the  precautions  necessary  in  the 
doubtful  Indian  country,  and  again  their  eyes  were 
open  for  every  sign  or  footprint,  and  their  ears  for 
every  sentiment  which  Panza  might  express. 

"  I  didn't  realize  it  then,  but  the  fact  that  I  felt 
sure  that  the  little  Indian  was  round  made  me  feel  a 
heap  easier  about  red  men,  in  coming  through  Dakota," 
Charlie  said,  and  added,  "  I  wish  he  were  about  here 
now." 

Before  sunset  they  built  their  fire  in  a  sheltered 
gorge,  using  only  dry  sticks,  to  prevent  smoke,  and 
after  supper  moved  on  again  for  half  a  mile  or  more. 
The  second  night  they  selected  a  camp  in  a  curious 
ravine,  which  seemed  to  have  sunk  down  from  a  level 
of  the  tableland,  through  some  action  from  below. 
There  was  a  narrow  entrance,  a  defile  between  the 
rocky  ledges  leading  to  it,  and  the  bottom,  containing 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  297 

not  more  than  three  or  four  acres,  was  thickly  covered 
with  grass  and  wild  flowers.  Except  for  that  one 
defile  it  was  completely  walled  in,  and  a  little  stream, 
trickling  over  the  rocks,  wound  along  the  bottom  and 
finally  disappeared. 

"  What  a  glorious  place  this  is,"  Oscar  exclaimed. 
"  We  have  only  to  turn  the  horses  loose  and  go  to 
sleep." 

"  It  is  the  best  thing  that  could  be  built,"  Charlie 
replied,  "  so  long  as  no  one  knows  that  we  are  here. 
But  it  would  be  a  tough  place  for  us  if  a  bunch  of 
Indians  should  get  wind  of  it,  for  there 'd  be  no  get- 
ting out,  and  no  getting  at  them.  I  reckon  we'd  better 
keep  the  watcli  same  as  last  night." 

Whenever  they  were  obliged  to  watch  Charlie  slept 
the  first  half  of  the  night,  giving  Oscar  the  last  half; 
for  then  he  was  in  a  better  state  to  go  to  sleep  quickly, 
and  could  sleep  till  the  last  moment  in  the  morning. 

The  night  was  clear.     There  was  a  cold  wind  blow- 

O 

ing  over  the  tableland,  but  it  could  not  reach  their 
sheltered  valley.  Oscar  was  tired  after  the  long  day, 
and'  the  still  air  made  him  sleepy.  He  was  obliged 
to  walk,  most  of  the  time,  to  keep  awake,  frequently 
passing  the  narrow  entrance,  and  at  every  turn  giving 
a  sharp  look  along  the  ledges. 

It  was  approaching  twelve  o'clock,  and  Oscar  was 
very  glad  of  it,  when  Panza,  who  had  been  lying  near 
Sancho,  stood  up,  looked  about  her  in  an  uncertain 


298  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

way,  and  came  over  to  where  Oscar  had  seated  himself 
for  a  moment.  She  was  evidently  disturbed.  Her 
tail  was  between  her  legs,  and  she  came  crouching 
along-  in  a  most  unusnal  way  ;  for  there  were  very  few 
things  which  ever  frightened  her. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Oscar  asked,  patting  her  head ;  but 
she  simply  looked  about  her  and  crouched  close  to  him. 
"  I'll  bet  a  cent  there's  a  snake  in  the  grass  over  there," 
he  added,  and  was  rising  to  go  over  and  investigate 
when  one  of  the  horses  stood  up,  and  he  noticed  that 
the  others  were  both  'awake.  Suddenly  Charlie  sat 
upright,  looked  toward  the  horses,  and  then  up  the 
gorge.  "What's  the  row,  Charlie?"  Oscar  asked, 
coming  toward  him.  "  Here  you  and  Panza  and  the 
horses  were  all  sound  asleep  a  moment  ago,  and  yet 
you  all  seem  to  know  that  there's  something  wrong, 
while  I  have  been  wide  awake  and  on  guard,  and  I 
can't  find  out  what  it  is  to  save  me." 

Charlie  was  slowly  rising  to  his  feet,  in  a  way  to 
indicate  at  least  that  there  was  nothing  of  any  im- 
mediate importance.  He  stretched  and  yawned,  and 
answered,  "That's  because  we  were  in  a  position  to 
receive  the  first  reports.  Just  lie  down  and  put  your 
ear  to  the  ground,  and  see  what  you  think  of  it." 

Oscar  obeyed,  listened  for  an  instant,  then  springing 
to  his  feet  he  gasped,  "  What  is  it  ?  For  mercy's  sake, 
Charlie,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  What     does    it    sound     like  ?  "     Charlie    asked. 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  299 

"  Is  it  an  earthquake  ?  "  Oscar  whispered. 

"  I  never  met  one  of  those  things,"  Charlie  replied ; 
"  but  I  reckon  they  would  shake  the  ground,  and  this 
is  pretty  steady." 

"  It  sounds  like  ocean  waves,"  Oscar  added,  listen- 
ing again.  "  And  it's  growing  louder.  Yes  ;  you  can 
hear  it  standing  up.  It  can't  be  thunder  ?"  and  he 
looked  toward  the  sky. 

"  O,  no !  "  said  Charlie,  with  vexing  deliberation. 
"  Thunder  usually  comes  from  overhead.  You'll  have 
to  guess  again." 

"  Well,  I  know  it's  nothing  serious,"  Oscar  ob- 
served, "you  take  it  so  easy.  It  can't  be  Indians. 
But  it's  a  horrible  rumble  now.  Could  a  lot  of  big 
prairie  schooners  on  the  run  make  a  noise  like  that?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  Charlie  replied,  walking  over 
toward  the  horses  ;  for  they  were  all  on  their  feet  now, 
and  growing  uneasy.  "It's  not  very  often  that  you 
strike  a  lot  of  big  prairie  schooners  on  the  run,  and 
especially  not  at  this  time  of  night." 

"It  isn't  Indians,  is  it?"  Oscar  asked,  as  they 
caught  the  horses  and  brought  them  together. 

"  Not  by  a  large  majority,"  Charlie  replied,  laughing. 
"  Indians  never  tiptoed  like  that  in  my  experience." 

"  It's  a  cloud  burst,  a  flood,"  Oscar  said,  as  the 
rumble  grew  louder,  and  the  horses  harder  to  manage ; 
and  he  cast  one  quick,  anxious  glance  up  the  narrow 
entrance  to  the  ravine. 


300  THE   INDIAN    QUESTION. 

"It's  coming  from  the  wrong  way  for  that.  It's 
going  toward  the  Rockies  ;  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  1  don't  see  anything,  but  I  hear  a  good  deal," 
Oscar  replied,  glad  of  a  chance  to  pay  Charlie  back  in 
u  small  way.  "Now  I'll  bet  I  know  what  it  is,"  he 
exclaimed.  "  It's  one  of  those  intermittent  boiling 
springs,  or  the  now-and-again  geysers  of  Wyoming." 

This  time  Charlie  laughed  outright.  "  Upon  my 
word,  Oscar,"  he  replied,  "you  beat  a  Yankee  for 
guessing.  I  shouldn't  have  supposed  there  could  have 
been  so  many  things  to  make  a  noise."  By  this  time 
it  had  become  a  steady  thunder,  and  the  very  ground 
seemed  to  tremble.  "  Ten  years  ago  that  would  have 
meant  a  herd  of  buffalo  ahead  of  a  bunch  of  Indians ; 
but  now  I  reckon  it's  only  a  big  drove  of  cattle  on  a 
stampede.  Some  ranch  is  changing  its  quarters,  and 
the  cows  have  started  off  for  themselves.  There,  I 
can  manage  the  horses  now.  Just  you  climb  up  that 
bluff,  and  I  reckon  you'll  see  a  sight  worth  taking  in. 
Only  have  a  care  that  you  don't  get  in  front  of  them, 
and  if  they  are  headed  for  this  hole  in  the  ground 
give  a  yell,  so  I  can  get  the  horses  out  quicker  than 
lightning;  for  they  will  not  stop  for  fire  or  water. 
They'd  fill  this  hole  full,  and  then  run  over  on  the  top 
if  there  were  enough  of  them  left,  after  making  the 
bridge." 

Oscar  climbed  the  bluff,  and  the  moment  he  reached 
the  upper  plain  the  noise  sounded  so  much  louder  that 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  301 

for  an  instant  he  stood  almost  petrified,  sure  that  the 
herd  could  not  be  fifty  feet  away. 

In  reality  it  was  nearly  half  a  mile  away,  but  in  tlie 
great  wave  of  sound  that  swept  over  him  there  was 
the  fierce  tramping  of  twelve  thousand  feet,  the  bel- 
lowing of  three  thousand  throats,  the  clashing  of  horns, 
the  yelling  of  cowboys,  and  the  howls  of  wild  animals 
that  were  in  the  path,  to  escape  or  be  run  down. 

The  moment  he  could  gather  himself  together  Oscar 
looked  away  over  the  plain,  and  as  Charlie  had  said, 
saw  a  sight  that  was  worth  taking  in.  A  great  dark 
shadow,  like  the  shadow  of  a  dense  cloud  sweeping 
over  the  landscape,  came  rolling  onward.  Oscar 
watched  it  carefully,  for  a  moment,  to  be  sure  that  the 
direction  would  not  bring  it  too  near  the  ravine,  then 
he  cast  one  quick,  searching  glance  about  him  in  every 
quarter  —  a  habit  which  early  becomes  the  second  na- 
ture of  every  expert  ranger — and  sure  that  there  was 
nothing  else  about  him  he  turned  again  to  admire  the 
grand  sight  of  three  thousand  cattle,  packed  in  one 
solid  mass,  dashing  madly  forward,  bellowing  and 
groaning  as  they  goaded  each  other  on. 

A  great  stampede  is  a  sight  full  of  anxiety  to  the 
ranchman,  full  of  apprehension  and  danger  to  the  cow- 
boy, full  of  majesty  and  grandeur  to  one  who  can  look 
at  it  without  anxiety  or  apprehension. 

The  herd  swept  past  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  and 
thundered  on,  down  into  the  distant  valley.  Oscar 


302  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

watched  till  the  dense  shadow  blended  with  others  in 
the  distance,  and  the  thunder  began  to  die  away  ;  then 
he  went  back  to  Charlie,  conscious  of  the  strangest 
condition,  which  no  one  can  explain  or  appreciate  who 
has  not  realized,  at  some  moment  of  life,  the  utter  and 
puny  helplessness  of  man  before  the  blind  force  of 
brute  muscle,  centered  as  it  is  in  a  great  stampede. 

"  Where  do  you  suppose  they  came  from  ? "  he 
asked,  as  the  little  camp  settled  down  to  quiet  again. 

"  It  was  just  as  likely  from  twenty  miles  away  as 
fi'om  one,"  Charlie  replied.  "  It's  just  about  the  time 
for  the  early  round-up  in  this  part  of  the  country,  and 
probably  some  big  ranch  is  working  its  way  West. 
It  takes  precious  little  to  start  a  herd  when  they're 
bunched  close  and  are  uneasy,  as  they  would  be  in 
this  cold  wind.  I've  seen  them  start  at  sight  of  a  man 
getting  off  his  horse.  They  are  so  used  to  seeing  the 
two  together  that  I  suppose  they  consider  the  combi- 
nation as  one  being,  and  to  see  him  deliberately  take 
himself  apart  was  too  much  for  them.  A  thunder- 
storm will  very  often  start  them,  and  sometimes  they 
will  start  at  nothing  at  all.  Then  if  they  once  get 
running  on  blind  nerve  there  is  nothing  under  heaven 
can  stop  them  till  they  are  tired  out.  I've  seen  a 
herd  go  straight  over  a  bluff  into  the  Missouri  River, 
swim  across,  as  many  as  lived  out  the  jump,  and  those 
that  were  not  drowned  in  crossing,  start  and  run  again 
when  they  reached  the  other  side." 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 


303 


"  Tell  me  some  more  about  cattle  raising,  Charlie," 
Oscar  said,  as  he  rolled  himself  up  iu  his  blanket. 
"  That  stampede  has  strung  me  all  up,  till  I  sha'n't 
get  to  sleep  to-night,  unless  you  can  talk  me  to  sleep." 

Charlie  sat  down,  and  leaning  back  against  his  sad- 
dle began,  iu  a  slow  monotone  that  was  calculated  to 


"STEERING  OVEK  THE  TRACKLESS  PLAIN." 

make  Oscar  sleepy,  if  anything  could.  "  The  last 
thing  I  did  with  cattle,  before  striking  the  Half-circle- 
dash,  was  to  move  a  ranch  up  this  way.  Not  so  far 
as  this,  for  this  was  all  Indians  then.  Nearly  the 
whole  of  it  belonged  to  the  Sioux,  the  Crows,  the 
Arapahces  and  the  Shoshones,  and  they  were  all-fired 
ugly  if  any  one  came  too  near  their  boundaries.  With 
the  first  show  of  spring  three  of  us  started  out  with 
two  pack  mules,  and  a  pretty  tough  time  we  had  of  it 
hunting  for  a  good  place  for  the  range.  As  soon  as 


304  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

we  found  a  place  we  hurried  back,  to  start  the  herd, 
so  that  it  could  have  as  much  time  on  the  new  range 
as  possible,  to  brace  up  from  the  tramp,  befoi-e  the 
next  winter.  There  was  upward  of  four  thousand 
head,  and  three  big  four-mule  schooners  lugging  grub 
and  bedding.  It  was  tough  work  steering  them  over 
the  trackless  plain,  creeping  along,  so  that  they  should 
not  be  over  driven,  looking  out  to  strike  water,  enough 
of  it,  when  we  stopped  for  the  night,  and  not  too 
much  of  it  when  we  had  to  cross  a  river.  And  all  the 
while  the  cattle  were  nervous  and  fidgety,  hunting  for 
some  excuse  to  run,  and  every  step  of  the  way  we 
were  open  to  sudden  calls  from  ugly  Indians.  Al- 
together it  was  a  big  relief  when  we  reached  the  range 
we  had  selected,  and  the  cattle  could  spread  them- 
selves, while  we  ran  up  a  ranch-house  of  cotton-wood 
logs  —  I  say,  Oscar,  look  up  the  gorge." 

For  a  moment  Oscar  did  not  move.  He  could  not 
see  what  looking  up  the  gorge  could  have  to  do  with 
the  ranching  experience  which  Charlie  was  relating. 
He  was  provoked,  too ;  for  Charlie  knew  very  well 
that  he  was  doing  his  best  to  go  to  sleep.  If  he 
should  rouse  enough  to  look  up  the  gorge  he  would 
simply  have  to  begin  the  struggle  all  over  again. 
What  did  he  care  what  there  was  up  the  gorge  ?  He 
had  seen  enough  for  one  night,  and  he  proposed  to  go 
to  sleep.  He  did  not  move. 

"  Oscar !  " 


THE   INDIAN    QUESTION.  307 

There  was  something  rather  sharp  ami  peremptory 
about  that.  Possibly  it  was  something  that  required 
being  looked  at.  He  disapproved  of  the  whole  matter, 
however,  and  gave  a  grunt  that  was  intended  to  con- 
vey a  volume  of  his  personal  sentiments  on  the  subject 
to  Charlie.  Then  he  cautiously  opened  one  eye,  part 
way,  so  that  he  should  see  as  little  as  possible  till  he 
had  investigated,  and  pushed  back  the  blanket  that 
was  over  his  face. 

The  next  instant  he  was  sitting  upright,  rubbing  his 
eyes  vigorously;  and  even  then  he  had  not  looked  up 
the  gorge.  He  had  simply  discovered  that  it  was 
broad  daylight,  that  breakfast  was  ready,  and  that  he 
had  been  sound  asleep  for  nearly  six  hours. 

"  Look  up  the  gorge,  Oscar,"  Charlie  said  again. 

This  time  he  did  look  up  the  gorge,  and  instantly 
started  to  his  feet.  Right  against  the  bright  eastern 
sky  he  discovered  the  narrow  pass  literally  blocked 
with  dark  forms,  above  which  horned  heads  were  toss- 
ing, in  eagerness  to  get  at  the  tempting  grass  and 
water  in  the  ravine.  Alone  in  the  very  front  stood  a 
sturdy  bull,  the  sunlight  flashing  along  his  back  and 
polished  horns.  They  were  a  fragment  of  the  herd 
that  had  either  become  separated  from  the  rest  or  had 
been  too  far  in  the  rear  to  keep  up  their  enthusiasm, 
and  the  present  delay,  against  which  they  were  pro- 
testing, was  caused  by  the  fact  that  the  bull  in  the 
lead  found  himself  unexpectedly  brought  face  to  face 


308  THE   INDIAN    QUESTION. 

with  Panza.  Neither  of  them  seemed  satisfied  as  to 
the  wisest  course  to  follow  under  the  circumstances, 
and  while  they  were  thinking  it  over  Charlie  said  to 
Oscar:  "Let's  bring  them  down  and  round  them  up 
at  that  end  of  the  ravine.  They'll  not  be  in  our  way, 
and  we  shall  be  obliging  some  fellow  immensely." 

They  called  Panza  off,  and,  mounting,  Oscar  fol- 
lowed Charlie's  orders,  taking  his  first  lesson  as  a 
cowboy.  The  cattle  were  a  little  restive,  especially 
a  bunch  of  stragglers  which  they  brought  in  from  the 
surrounding  plain  ;  but  Charlie  understood  his  busi- 
ness too  thoroughly  to  have  any  trouble  ;  the  ravine 
made  an  excellent  corral,  and  in  a  short  time  they 
were  safely  located,  and  Oscar  and  Charlie  were  eat- 
ing their  breakfast. 

"  This  is  the  last  of  our  meat,"  Charlie  remarked. 
"  Unless  those  cowboys  get  along  in  a  hurry  and  hand 
us  over  the  hind  quarter  of  one  of  their  steers,  for 
salvage,  we've  got  to  shoot  something  or  go  hungry." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  cows  ?  "  Oscar 
asked. 

"  Leave  'um  where  they  are,"  Charlie  said.  "  We'll 
put  a  stick  with  a  handkerchief  on  it  on  top  of  the 
knoll  to  mark  the  spot.  They  won't  care  to  move 
away  to-day,  any  way,  and  we  shall  surely  meet  some 
of  the  boys  hunting  for  them,  before  noon." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  my  taking  Sancho  and 
the  shot-gun  and  making  a  little  dash  to  see  if  I  can 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  309 

see  any  of  them  or  knock  over  anything  for  dinner?" 
Oscar  asked. 

"  There's  none,  if  you  don't  go  out  of  call  and  if 
you're  back  in  fifteen  minutes.  I'll  be  ready  to  start 
in  that  time,"  Charlie  replied. 

Oscar  was  off  in  an  instant. 

"  Look  out  that  you  don't  run  into  a  bunch  of 
Indians,"  Charlie  called  after  him,  but  Oscar  was  too 
far  away  to  hear.  Pie  marked  their  hiding  place  by 
sighting  a  dead  tree  and  a  mountain  peak,  in  one 
direction,  and  two  bowlders  in  a  line  in  another ;  but 
it  was  too  fine  a  morning  to  think  of  any  further  pre- 
cautions. It  was  gloriously  clear  and  cool,  and  it 
was  the  first  time  for  days  that  he  and  Sancho  had 
been  free  from  the  monotonous  pace  of  a  pilgrimage. 
Sancho  started  at  a  furious  run.  There  was  not  a 
cowboy  in  sight ;  Oscar  made  sure  of  that,  and  then 
devoted  his  attention  strictly  to  the  ground  about  him, 
with  his  shot-gun  ready  to  drop  the  first  living  thing 
that  started  up  within  reach. 

The  scene  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent  that  he 
had  ever  witnessed.  The  high  tableland  about  him 
was  glowing  in  its  early  summer  and  early  morning 
glory.  Broken  and  irregular  hills  and  buttes,  backed 
by  the  giant  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  rose  upon 
three  sides,  like  the  walls  of  a  giant  amphitheater. 
Only  for  an  instant  Oscar  lifted  his  eyes  to  look  at 
them,  but  he  lost  a  prairie  chicken  in  the  act ;  for  one 


310  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

rose  directly  in  front  of  him,  but  before  he  was  ready 
it  had  crossed  the  brow  of  a  mound  upon  his  right,  and 
dropped  down  into  a  ravine  beyond.  Chagrined,  he 
turned  Saucho  quickly  in  that  direction.  He  caught 
sight  of  it  again  just  as  it  was  dropping  into  a  little 
cluster  of  bushes  half-way  down  the  knoll,  and  had 
made  a  good  dash  toward  it,  watching  for  it  to  rise 
again,  when  he  discovered,  to  his  horror,  a  party  of 
Indians,  in  full  view,  who  had  overpowered  and  robbed 
a  white  man  sitting  in  their  midst.  They  were  indulg- 
ing in  a  series  of  suggestive  flourishes  with  their 
knives,  about  his  head,  while  the  poor  fellow  was  pull- 
ing off  his  boots  for  them. 

The  Indians  evidently  saw  Oscar  at  the  same  mo- 
ment. His  first  thought,  with  a  cold  shiver,  was  to 
turn  and  run  for  his  life.  They  had  only  the  horse 
and  rifle  which  they  had  stolen,  between  them.  He 
remembered  that  he  had  wholly  ignored  Charlie's  in- 
junction to  keep  within  call,  and  that  he  had  nothing 
but  a  shot-gun.  Before  he  had  time  to  act  upon  it, 
however,  he  had  changed  his  mind.  It  was  not  his 
nature  to  run  from  anything.  He  did  not  propose  to 
leave  a  helpless  fellow-being  awaiting  a  horrible  death. 

Without  a  moment's  thought  he  hugged  his  feet 
under  Sancho  and  sent  him  bounding  toward  the 
group.  He  threw  his  gun  to  his  shoulder,  and  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs  shouted  :  "  Hi,  you  red  skins !  I've 
got  you  now.  Come  on,  boys  !  Come  on  !  " 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  313 

He  saw  the  Indians  hesitate  and  look  at  each  other. 
He  knew  that  if  they  stood  their  ground  for  another 
moment  lie  would  be  in  their  midst,  and  they  could 
dispose  of  him  instantly.  He  saw  the  Indian  standing 
by  the  captured  horse  catch  the  white  man's  rifle  in 
his  hand  and  lay  his  other  hand  upon  the  horse's  neck. 
It  meant  that  he  would  mount  and  fight.  If  he  did 
there  could  be  but  one  result.  Quick  as  thought  he 
leveled  his  gun  between  the  broad  bare  shoulders,  and 
thanking  fortune,  even  then,  that  it  was  only  loaded 
with  comparatively  harmless  shot,  and  had  little  chance 
to  kill,  he  pulled  the  trigger  and  shut  his  eyes. 

There  was  one  wild  yell  from  the  Indians,  and  as 
Oscar  opened  his  eyes  he  saw  the  prisoner  springing 
to  his  feet,  catching  his  rifle  in  one  hand  before  it  had 
time  to  fall,  and  the  bridle  of  his  horse  in  the  other, 
before  the  frightened  animal  could  move,  while  the 
Indians  were  already  several  feet  away,  starting  down 
the  ravine  like  frightened  deer. 

"  Don't  stop  to  shoot,"  Oscar  muttered,  as  he  rode 
up.  "  Get  into  your  outfit  and  on  to  your  horse  quicker 
than  lightning,  for  I'm  all  alone,  and  if  they  have 
friends  and  horses  near  they'll  be  back  in  no  time." 

"You  all  alone?"  the  man  gasped,  looking  up  at 
him  in  blank  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  can't  you  see  without  stopping  to  ask  ? 
They  will  see,  too,  if  they  look  back.  Give  me  your  pis- 
tol. I've  nothing  but  this  shot-gun,"  Oscar  muttered. 


314  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

The  man  handed  him  his  pistol  without  a  word,  raid 
made  good  time  in  getting  his  belongings  together. 
A  professional  fireman  could  not  have  done  better. 
As  one  article  after  another  flew  into  place,  and  Oscar 
reloaded  his  shot-gun  he  heard  the  man  say  to  himself : 

"  Alone,  and  with  nuthin'  but  a  pea  shooter.  Well, 
I'll  be  busted  !  " 

The  moment  he  was  ready  they  started  up  the  hill 
as  fast  as  their  horses  could  carry  them,  and  a  little 
later  dashed  down  the  narrow  path  into  the  ravine, 
where  Charlie  sat  upon  his  horse  ready  to  start,  igno- 
rant that  anything  had  happened. 

The  man  proved  to  be  one  of  the  cowboys  out  look- 
ing up  the  lost  cattle,  and  as  Charlie  listened  to  his 
story  of  the  rescue  his  face  grew  sterner  than  Oscar 
had  ever  seen  it,  and  he  muttered  : 

"  I'm  glad  it  has  turned  out  as  it  has ;  but  now  that 
I  know  what  risks  you'll  run,  Oscar,  it's  the  last  time 
you  get  out  of  my  sight,  in  an  Indian  country,  so  long 
as  I  have  one  eye  that  will  open." 

"  You're  just  right,"  said  the  cowboy.  "  'Twas  the 
bravest  thing  "I  ever  saw  done,  but  it  was  foolish,  no 
mistake.  No  man  livin'  would  'a'  took  such  chances 
with  only  a  pea  shooter." 

"  Well,  they're  gone  now,  so  let's  talk  of  something 
else,"  Oscar  interrupted. 

"  Wish  I  knew  how  fur  and  for  how  long  they're 
gone,"  muttered  the  cowboy.  "  I  must  V  squatted 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  315 

right  down  in  a  nest  on  'um.  All  night  I  was  fol- 
lowin'  a  herd  on  a  dead  run,  and  soon's  we  had  'um 
rounded  up  part  of  us  started  back  to  pick  up  the 
others.  We  turned  two  lots,  with  three  men  each, 
but  there  was  some  fifty  or  sixty  more.  I  see  you've 
got  'um  in  here,  for  the  which  I'm  all-fired  grateful. 
Four  of  us  kept  on  and  kinder  spread  out.  About  an 
hour  after  sunup  I  was  tarnal  tired  and  hungry,  and 
coinin'  to  a  good  spot  I  pulled  off  the  saddle  while  I 
ate  a  piece  o'  raw  ham  and  a  hunk  o'  bread  I'd  grabbed 
when  we  started.  I'm  sure  I  didn't  see  any  Indians, 
and  I'm  sure  I  didn't  hear  any;  but  before  I  had 
three  good  bites  they  were  all  around  me,  within  arm's 
length,  and  it's  the  strangest  luck  that  they  didn't 
brain  me,  first  go  off.  I  didn't  show  fight  worth  a 
cent,  and  when  I  found  they  were  going  to  let  me  get 
my  togs  off  first,  I  tell  you  I  was  slow  about  it,  hopin' 
the  fellers  would  come  up." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  I  got  there,  even  if  it  was  foolish," 
Oscar  said. 

"  Hold  on,  youngster,"  the  cowboy  interrupted. 
"  I  kinder  appreciate  what  you  did  for  me,  and  don't 
you  forget  it.  I  only  said  'twas  foolish  runnin'  such 
a  risk.  I'd  no  more  'a'  done  what  you  did  than  I'd 
laid  down  in  front  o'  that  herd,  last  night.  You're 
ready  to  start,  ain't  you  ?  If  you  don't  mind  I'll  go 
on  with  yon  fur  mutual  protection  in  case  those  fel- 
lows turn  up  again.  We'll  meet  the  boys  somewhere, 


316  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

unless  they're  scalped  —  the  which  I  guess  not  —  and 
after  seein'  you  safe  away  we  can  come  back  for  the 
cows  and  stop  here  to-night." 

They  climbed  the  narrow  path,  but  they  were  none 
too  soon.  As  they  reached  the  upper  level  Charlie 
muttered : 

"  There  they  are,  now  !  They're  coming  for  us  in 
good  shape !  Send  Panza  back  into  the  ravine  with 
the  pack  horse,  quick.  We'll  have  to  meet  them  on 
the  nub.  It's  not  a  bad  place,  for  they  can't  get  at 
us  from  behind,  and  when  they  wheel  they  will  be  too 
far  away  to  fire." 

He  quickly  assigned  the  positions,  in  a  half-circle, 
taking  the  center  himself,  with  the  bluff  behind  them. 
The  cowboy's  horse  was  down  in  an  instant,  and  he 
was  flat  upon  the  ground,  with  the  saddle  for  a  rifle 
rest.  Charlie  dropped  next.  It  was  Oscar's  first  ex- 
perience. He  had  tried  the  experiment  once  before, 
in  the  Indian  camp,  by  Neepawa,  but  he  had  almost 
forgotten  how  it  was  done,  and  Sancho  was  so  slow  in 
obeying  that  he  was  hardly  down  when,  with  a  wild 
yell,  the  Indians  were  upon  them. 

There  were  nine  in  all,  all  mounted,  but  only  armed 
with  pistols.  Yelling  and  shooting  they  dashed  furi- 
ously on,  directly  for  the  center  of  the  little  group,  as 
though  no  power  could  stop  them.  Sancho  began  to 
struggle,  and  Oscar  was  obliged  to  lean  upon  his  neck 
to  keep  him  down.  He  could  not  blame  the  horse  for 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  319 

being  frightened.  His  own  hands  were  like  ice.  He 
knew  that  the  Indians  meant  death  without  mercy. 
He  knew  that  their  only  hope  was  in  using  their  rifles; 
but  he  had  not  strength  to  lift  the  hammer.  He  could 
only  crouch  there,  behind  Sancho,  vacantly  staring  at 
the  approaching  Indians. 

When  they  were  within  fifty  feet  they  suddenly 
wheeled  to  the  right,  dropped  down  behind  their 
horses,  till  all  that  could  be  seen  of  them  was  a  leg  and 
arm,  and  clinging  to  the  bare  backs  and  leaning  for- 
ward fired  their  pistols  from  under  the  horses'  necks. 
The  chief  was  not  even  armed  with  a  pistol,  but  he 
used  an  Indian  bow  with  a  fury  which  at  least  inspired 
the  rest  and  sent  cold  shivers  down  Oscar's  back. 

As  they  dashed  past  Oscar  recognized  the  fellow 
whose  back  he  had  lashed  with  shot,  and  at  the  same 
instant  the  Indian  recognized  him.  He  was  evidently 
on  the  watch  for  him,  for  he  gave  a  fierce  yelp,  like  a 
wounded  wolf,  brought  his  horse  within  thirty  feet 
and  fired  ;  then  whirled  away.  Oscar  saw  the  dirt 
jump  where  the  ball  struck  the  ground  close  to  him, 
and  still  he  could  not  move. 

Charlie's  rifle  was  the  first  to  sound,  and  Oscar  saw 
an  Indian  fall,  throwing  his  horse  at  the  same  time, 
and  heard  Charlie  mutter : 

"  That  fellow  put  a  bullet  through  my  hat,  but  he 
won't  do  it  again." 

The  next  instant   the   cowboy  fired,  and   the   chief 


320    .  THE   INDIAN    QUESTION. 

gave  a  fierce  yell  and  fell  headlong,  while  the  cowboy 
remarked  as  he  reloaded  his  Winchester : 

"  There's  one  less  for  Uncle  Sam  to  feed,  and  he's  a 
good  one  to  have  out  of  the  way  just  now." 

The  moment  the  Indians  had  passed,  they  rode  away 
and  wheeled  to  come  back  in  the  opposite  direction. 

"Are  you  hurt,  Oscar?"  Charlie  asked,  glancing 
over  his  shoulder,  the  moment  they  were  past,  as  he 
threw  a  fresh  cartridge  into  his  rifle. 

"No,  no!  I'm  all  right,"  Oscar  replied,  shaking 
himself  from  his  lethargy. 

"Well,  look  sharp,"  muttered  the  cowboy.  "They're 
holding  their  irons  in  their  right  hands,  this  trip,  and 
they'll  hit  nearer.  You  stop  where  you  are,"  he  ad- 
ded, firing  at  a  rather  long  range  ;  but  the  foremost 
Indian  fell,  giving  him  time  to  reload  before  they 
were  again  upon  them. 

With  a  wild  whoop  they  came  again.  Oscar  ground 
his  teeth  and  cocked  his  rifle  while  he  watched  them, 
determined  that  this  time  he  would  not  flinch.  Sev- 
eral times  before  he  had  aimed  his  rifle  or  pistol  at  an 
enemy,  but  with  the  exception  of  the  use  he  had  made 
of  his  shot-gun  that  morning,  he  had  never  pulled  the 
trigger  or  really  intended  to  fire  upon  a  human  being. 
He  knew  that  it  was  a  struggle  for  life  and  death  be- 
tween them  now,  and  that  their  number  was  none  too 
large  if  each  one  did  his  best.  He  bent  to  his  rifle, 
determined  to  do  his  share. 


THE    INDIAN    QUESTION.  321 

They  came  within  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet,  this 
time,  before  they  fired  a  shot. 

"  They  mean  biz  ;  look  out  for  them !  "  Charlie 
muttered. 

Oscar  singled  out  the  one  who  had  fired  at  him 
before. 

They  came  within  a  hundred  feet  and  opened  fire. 
Oscar  heard  the  sharp  zip  of  a  bullet  passing  over 
him,  but  his  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  man  he  was 
watching,  waiting  to  see  his  head  appear. 

Their  yells  were  horrible,  and  the  contortions  of 
their  savage  faces,  appearing  under  their  horses'  necks, 
were  hideous.  It  has  been  the  experience  of  too  many 
to  be  counted  simply  the  timidity  of  a  few  that  there 
is  nothing  which  can  so  completely  unnerve  a  man 
and  paralyze  him  to  the  heart,  as  the  ghastly,  distorted 
features  of  a  frantic,  desperate  'Indian. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Oscar's  heart  failed  him  at 
first.  It  was  much  more  remarkable  that  he  lay 
there  now,  ready  to  meet  them  as  they  returned. 

Suddenly,  just  as  his  fingers  tightened  upon  the 
trigger,  and  he  felt  sure  that  another  instant  would 
bring  in  view  the  mark  he  waited  for,  the  Indians 
gave  a  peculiar  cry,  and,  like  a  flash,  every  horse  had 
turned,  and  they  were  riding  swiftly  away. 

As  Oscar  dropped  his  rifle,  and  looked  after  them 
in  astonishment,  he  noticed  that  they  were  carrying 
away  with  them  the  bodies  of  those  who  had  been  shot. 


322  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

He  remembered  what  Charlie  had  told  him  of  the  way 
it  was  done,  but  it  was  all  accomplished  so  quickly, 
while  he  was  so  intently  following  one  horse  with  his 
rifle,  that  he  had  seen  nothing  of  it. 

The  cowboy  was  on  his  feet  in  an  instant. 

"  Easy,"  Charlie  muttered.  "  Maybe  they've  only 
taken  those  fellows  out  of  the  way,  and  will  be  back 
again  in  a  minute,  madder  than  before." 

"  I  guess  by  the  way  they  went  that  they  saw  some 
one  coming,"  the  cowboy  replied,  "and  it's  high  time 
our  gang  turned  up." 

"  I  hope  so,"  Charlie  said,  rising  cautiously.  "  I've 
got  over  caring  to  shoot  Indians,  but  I  haven't  got  to 
where  I  care  to  have  them  shoot  me  if  I  can  help  it. 
Are  you  all  right,  Oscar  ?  " 

"  O,  yes !  "  Oscar  replied,  springing  to  his  feet, 
when  he  noticed  that  his  shirt  was  wet  with  blood,  and 
looking,  found  that  a  bullet  had  scratched  his  side. 

"  It's  nothing  but  a  touch.  It'll  be  healed  in  a  few 
daysi"  Charlie  said,  anxiously  examining  the  spot. 
"  But  it  was  a  close  call.  Thank  God  that  a  miss  is 
as  good  as  a  mile." 

"  Why,  I  didn't  know  that  I  was  hit  at  all,  Charlie," 
Oscar  exclaimed;  "  I  wish  now  that  I  had  fired.  I  could 
not  get  my  strength.  They  took  my  breath  away." 

"That's  natural,"  Charlie  replied,  as  he  cared  for 
<;he  wound.  "  It's  precious  few  people  who  are  good 
for  much  with  Indians  till  they've  been  under  fire 


THE    INDIAN    gl  KSTION. 


323 


a  good  while  longer  than  you  have-.  And  to  stand  out 
a  rush  like  that  iirst  one  is  all  that  anybody's  nerves 
could  do.  There  !  I  reckon  that  will  patch  up  all 
right,  and  that  some  day  you  will  be  proud  of  that 
scar.  Halloo  !  What's  struck  our  friend  ?  " 

The  cowboy  pulled  off  his  hat  and  shouted,  and  a 


THE  COWBOYS'  SERENADE. 

moment  later  the  three  of  whom  he  had  spoken,  came 
dashing*  up. 

Between  experiences  and  congratulations  it  would 
have  been  easy  to  laugh  and  listen,  all  day  ;  for  more 
entertaining  company  could  not  easily  be  found  than  a 
party  of  cowboys  after  a  successful  escapade. 


324  THE    INDIAN    QUESTION. 

Oscar  and  Charlie  were  in  too  much  haste,  however, 
to  yield.  They  only  waited  long  enough  for  another 
breakfast  of  broiled  steaks,  prairie  pancakes  and  cof- 
fee, and  with  all  they  could  carry  of  fresh  beef  fastened 
to  the  pack,  they  started  again,  accompanied  by  the 
four  as  a  guard  of  honor. 

Oscar  thought  he  had  never  enjoyed  a  half-day's 
ride  so  much  in  his  life,  and  he  began  to  understand 
the  sunny  side  of  the  cowboy's  nature,  and  the  real 
character  which  Charlie  had  praised  so  highly. 

They  were  full  of  stories  and  bubbling  with  wit,  so 
that  the  strain  of  the  morning  wore  away,  and  he  en- 
tirely forgot  that  he  was  a  wounded  veteran,  shot  in  a 
battle  with  the  Indians. 

The  cowboys  refused  to  turn  back  till  the  middle  of 
the  afternoon.  Then  they  said  good-by,  and  were  a 
few  feet  away  when  one  of  them  shouted  : 

"Here's  to  the  youngster,  and  his  little  pea 
shooter !  " 

They  all  wheeled  their  horses  about,  and  while 
Oscar  and  Charlie  sat  and  watched  and  laughed,  they 
sang  the  chorus  of  "  Marching  Through  Georgia," 
emphasizing  the  cheers  with  shots  from  their  pistols, 
while  their  horses,  in  an  intensely  amusing  but  ungainly 
bronco  fashion,  attempted  to  dance  an  accompaniment. 

With  the  last  note  the  horses  wheeled  again,  and 
dashed  away. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

THE    LAST    OF   THE    TRAIL. 

"  WELL,  we  have  crossed  Wyoming  in  safety,  at 
any  rate,"  Charlie  said,  when  they  entered  Colorado. 
"  If  all  goes  well  we  shall  stop  to-night  at  a  full- 
fledged  cow-town.  It  will  be  the  first  time  you  have 
struck  such  a  place,  Oscar,  and  I'm  anxious  to  see 
how  you  like  it.  You'll  find  it  another  eccentricity  of 
the  frontier,  and  another  sample  of  what  we  were 
talking  about  as  we  entered  Dead  wood." 

He  was  quite  right.  The  people,  their  language, 
their  dress,  their  manners,  the  buildings,  the  stores,  all 
had  a  distinct  individuality.  It  was  no  trading  post, 
no  farming  town,  no  shipping  point,  no  commercial 
center,  no  mining  settlement.  It  was  a  cow-town, 
through  and  through.  There  was  only  one  feature 
which  had  run  through  all  alike ;  that  curse  of  Amer- 
ica's frontier  life,  the  liquor  saloon,  was  everywhere. 
Whether  to  attract  the  Indian  trader,  the  farmer, 
the  clerk,  the  miner  or  the  cowboy,  and  make  a 

325 


326          THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRAIL. 

friend    of    him,  the  glaring  sign  was  the  same,  and 
omnipresent. 

The  town  was  rough  and  only  half-finished,  like  the 
rest ;  but  it  was  not  depressing,  as  they  had  been.  The 
streets  were  deep  with  dust,  and  the  wooden  sidewalks 
irregular  and  half -dilapidated,  but  it  did  not  seem  to 
matter  so  much  as  before.  There  were  several  ranch- 
men about  worth  their  millions,  and  cowboys  earning 
their  forty  dollars  a  month.  There  were  Irish,  Germans 
and  English,  all  thoroughly  Americanized.  There 
were  hunters  in  their  buckskin  shirts  and  caps,  with 
shaggy  beards  and  uncut  hair,  bi.t  with  quick  and 
resolute  eyes,  taking  in  everything.  There  were  mule 
skinners  in  slouch  hats  and  high-topped  boots  coveixt7 
with  dirt ;  stage  drivers,  whose  bronzed  faces  were 
seamed  with  deep  lines,  suggestive  of  the  troubled 
trails  they  followed.  Here  and  there  an  Indian  stalked 
silently  and  solemnly,  wrapped  in  his  long  blanket ; 
but  over  all  there  was  an  air  of  light-hearted  freedom 
from  care  and  anxiety.  The  people  sauntered  leisurely 
along  with  an  independent,  though  somewhat  ungainly 
swing,  from  not  being  much  used  to  relying  on  their 
legs,  or  lounged  in  front  of  the  boarding-houses. 

Between  the  high  sidewalks  were  heavy  prairie 
schooners,  with  their  great  canopied  tops,  loading  with 
supplies  for  the  various  ranches  within  a  hundred 
miles.  There  were  the  pack  mules  of  squatters  and 
the  smaller  ranches,  waiting  to  receive  their  burdens. 


THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRAIL.  329 

A  lumbering  stage  coach  was  ready  to  start  for  some- 
where early  the  next  morning,  and  tough  and  awkward 
but  invaluable  broncos  darted  about  with  the  inevi- 
table cowboys  on  their  backs. 

It  was  an  ideal  cattle  town ;  that  was  all ;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  atmosphere  which  Oscar  found 
as  attractive  as  the  others  had  been  repulsive.  He 
wondered  why,  and  even  spoke  of  it  to  Charlie,  but 
received  only  his  favorite  reply : 

"  I  reckon  it's  the  nature  of  the  beast.  It's  so  with 
everything.  You  take  a  violin  into  a  room  where  a 
piano  is  being  played,  and  when  certain  notes  are  struck 
it  will  vibrate.  It  always  will  for  those  notes,  whether 
they  come  in  a  harmony  or  discord,  and  it  never  will 
for  the  rest.  Square  pegs  will  not  fit  close  in  round 
holes,  and  round  pegs  won't  in  square  holes.  You're 
not  tuned  for  trading  or  mining,  and  there's  nothing 
in  them  that  vibrates  in  you.  But  when  the  big  piano 
of  life  strikes  a  note  on  ranching,  no  matter  how 
roughly,  your  violin  vibrates.  See  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder,"  Oscar  observed,  "  and  I  hope 
you  are  right;  for  ever  since  I  was  old  enough  to 
know  anything,  it  has  been  my  ambition  to  be  a  ranch- 
man and  ranger,  and  I  mean  to  carry  it  out  some  way, 
before  I  die.  Let's  turn  in.  I  want  to  put  in  a  good 
square  night  of  it  in  a  real  bed,  to  see  how  it  seems." 

There  was  no  further  danger  from  Indians  before 
them.  There  was  nothing  but  cattle  ranches,  sheep 


330  THE    LAST    OF    THE    TRAIL. 

farms  and  wild,  branching  spurs  of  the  great  mount- 
ains, between  them  and  Leadville.  They  made  long 
days  a»d  short  nights,  trusting  to  Panza  to  do  the 
watching  when  they  were  not  fortunate  enough  to 
strike  a  squatter's  shanty  or  a  ranch-house  at  the  right 
time ;  keeping  as  good  a  place  as  possible,  knowing 
that  the  horses  had  only  to  hold  out  a  little  longer, 
when  they  would  have  abundant  time  to  rest. 

The  days  were  not  inonotonous,  though  they  were  of 
a  milder  type  of  excitement  and  of  more  steady  pushing 
than  before. 

The  fording  of  almost  innumerable  streams  proved 
the  most  difficult  work  of  this  part  of  the  journey,  and 
once  they  were  seriously  delayed  and  came  very  near 
losing  their  pack  horse. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  reached  the  bank  of  a 
river,  or  at  least  the  dry  bed  where  a  river  had  been, 
under  more  favorable  circumstances.  At  first  Charlie 
was  very  decided  that  they  had  better  cross  and  camp 
upon  the  other  side,  but  everything  was  so  much  better 
where  they  were,  that  at  last  they  decided  to  remain 
there,  and,  unsaddling,  turned  their  horses  out  to  feed, 
digging  holes,  for  water,  in  the  sand-bed  of  the  river. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  Oscar  was  suddenly 
roused  by  a  hideous  yell.  He  woke  with  a  start  which 
sent  a  sharp  pain  to  his  finger  tips,  and  perspiration  to 
his  forehead.  For  a  moment  he  could  not  tell  whether 
it  was  something  real  or  a  frightful  dream  that  .Jiad 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   TRAIL.  331 

roused  him.  He  only  knew  that  he  was  trembling 
from  head  to  foot,  and  laying  his  hand  oil  his  rifle,  he 
looked  cautiously  about  him. 

The  night  was  dark.  He  could  distinguish  only 
the  outlines  of  the  horses,  and  of  Pauza  close  be- 
side him.  She  was  not  asleep,  and  she  was  licking 
her  chops  in  a  fashion  to  indicate  that  something  was 
not  just  to  her  liking;  but  she  did  not  seem  much  dis- 
turbed. Charlie  was  lying  on  the  ground  at  a  little 
distance,  apparently  asleep. 

Oscar  made  up  his  mind  that  it  must  have  been  a 
dream  —  though  a  very  real  and  very  bad  one  —  and 
hoping  that  he  might  never  dream  out  such  a  fiendish 
yell  again,  he  turned  over  and  was  just  dropping 
asleep  once  more,  when,  from  all  about  him,  from 
every  side  at  once,  there  rang  out  the  most  frightful 
screech  that  could  possibly  be  imagined. 

It  sounded  as  though  all  the  Indians  in  the  West 
had  surrounded  them,  and  as  though  each  one  was  in 
the  very  act  of  scalping  a  pale  face. 

With  a  start  which  seemed  to  lift  him  completely 
from  the  ground,  Oscar  caught  his  rifle  again  and 
started  to  crawl  to  Charlie,  wondering  how  he  could 
possibly  have  slept  through  it ;  afraid  to  rise  or  speak 
lest  he  should  attract  attention,  and  shuddering  as 
the  fearful  thought  flashed  through  his  mind  that  pos- 
sibly Charlie  might  have  been  killed  where  he  lay. 
He  could  almost  touch  him,  when  Charlie  gave  an 


332  THE    LAST    OF    THE    TRAIL. 

impatient  toss  under  his  blanket,  and,  evidently  speak- 
ing to  himself,  muttered : 

"  Plague  take  those  coyotes  !  I  can't  sleep." 
Oscar  lay  down  again  even  more  cautiously  and 
quietly  than  he  got  up.  He  had  been  afraid  of  at- 
tracting the  Indians  and  showing  them  where  he  was  ; 
but  he  was  more  afraid  of  attracting  Charlie's  atten- 
tion and  showing  him  what  a  fool  he  had  been.  He 
would  have  received  very  charitable  attention,  how- 
ever, if  he  had  attracted  it ;  for  every  plainsman 
knows  that  there  are  no  two  things  in  nature  which 
so  closely  resemble  each  other,  in  disposition,  general 
habits  and  accomplishments,  as  coyotes  and  Indians  ; 
and  many  a  man  of  long  experience  has  shuddered  for 
his  scalp  at  the  first  yelp  of  a  pack  of  coyotes  in 
an  Indian  country.  Oscar  had  occasionally  seen  them 
and  often  found  traces  of  them.  He  had  sometimes 
heard  a  solitary  bark  ;  but  he  had  never  heard  their 
concerted  howl  before,  and  would  have  been  very  will- 
ing never  to  hear  it  again.  They  were  not  over  sensi- 
tive concerning  his  wishes,  however,  and  it  was  a  long- 
time before  he  could  get  to  sleep.  It  seemed  as  though 
he  had  hardly  succeeded,  when  he  was  roused  by 
another  incomprehensible  noise.  It  was  so  soft  and 
musical  this  time,  that  it  was  rather  pleasant  to  listen 
to.  Oscar  was  so  sleepy  that,  though  he  knew  there 
was  something  out  of  order,  he  had  hard  work  to 
rouse  himself  sufficiently  to  wonder  what  it  was.  He 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   TRAIL.  333 

thought  there  must  be  a  pond  somewhere  that  Panza 
had  found,  and  that  she  was  taking  a  bath  in  it.  It 
sounded  so.  Then  he  decided  that  other  travelers  had 
reached  the  spot,  and  were  pouring  water  into  some- 
thing for  their  horses.  He  remembered  how  hard  it 
was  for  the  horses  to  get  their  heads  down  into  the 
holes  they  dug  the  night  before,  and  thought  it  a  very 
good  idea.  In  time  it  came  over  him  that  the  sound 
was  steadily  increasing,  and,  making  a  great  struggle, 
he  roused  himself,  sat  erect,  and  looked  about  him. 

There  was  a  splashing,  gurgling  sound,  very  distinct 
now,  and  very  close  at  hand.  He  did  not  propose  to 
make  a  fool  of  himself  twice  in  one  night,  so  he  took 
his  rifle,  and,  rising  quietly,  was  moving  toward  the 
noise,  when,  in  a  sleepy  voice,  Charlie  muttered : 

"  It's  no  use,  Oscar.  We're  caught  on  this  side. 
It's  too  late  now,  and  we've  got  to  make  the  best  of  it." 

"  All  right,"  Oscar  replied,  but  he  was  wide  awake 
at  last,  and  proposed  to  see  for  himself  what  was  going 
on.  A  moment  later  he  discovered  a  bubbling,  boil- 
ing, angry  river  rushing  between  the  banks  that  were 
parched  and  dry  the  night  before.  It  was  a  hundred 
feet  wide,  and  apparently  deep  enough  for  navigation. 

"These  intermittent  rivers  are  all-fired  uncertain 
things,"  Charlie  remarked,  as  they  sat  upon  the  ground 
eating  their  breakfast.  "They  live  on  storms  and 
cloud-bursts  in  the  mountains.  They  appear  under 
the  clearest  sky,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  the  mischief 


334          THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRAIL. 

they  work  in  their  bottoms.  That  was  all  sand  we 
dug  in  last  night,  you  know,  and  the  chances  are  that 
it  is  quicksand  this  morning.  If  we  go  down  the  river 
—  for  goodness  knows  how  far  —  we  shall  strike  the 
stage  route,  I  suppose,  and  probably  find  a  bridge  of 
some  sort,  or  a  paved  bottom,  if  they're  not  washed 
away.  If  we  wait  for  the  water  to  run  off,  it  may  take 
an  hour  or  it  may  take  a  week.  If  we  go  ahead  and 
try  to  cross  here,  we  may  find  a  bottom  as  hard  as 
rock,  or  we  may  find  no  bottom  at  all.  What  do  you 
say?" 

"  I  don't  much  fancy  running  the  risk  of  losing 
Sancho,"  Oscar  replied;  "but  I'm  sure  I  don't  fancy 
losing  a  day  hunting  for  a  bridge  that  perhaps  isn't 
there." 

"  I  don't  think  there's  much  risk  for  Sancho," 
Charlie  said ;  "  he's  too  quick  on  his  feet.  We'll 
split  up  the  line  according  to  the  value  of  the  horses, 
for  the  first  is  not  likely  to  do  more  than  soften  up  the 
stuff.  It's  not  over  three  or  four  feet  deep  if  they 
don't  cut  through.  Now  we're  all  ready.  I  reckon 
this  pack  is  high  enough  not  to  get  wet.  You  start 
first.  Hold  your  feet  up  behind.  It's  safer  than  in 
front  if  you  may  want  to  use  them  quick.  Just  make 
straight  for  the  other  side.  If  it's  soft  and  Sancho's 
feet  stick  and  he  slows  down,  just  start  him  on.  Keep 
him  going  if  you  can,  and  if  you  find  he's  stuck,  get 
off  quick  and  swim  ashore.  Don't  let  your  own  feet 


THE   LAST   OF   THE   TRAIL.  335 

touch  bottom,  either,  and  we'll  easily  get  him  out  be- 
fore he  is  fast." 

This  was  a  new  experience  for  Oscar,  and  he  watched 
carefully  each  dainty  step  which  Sancho  took  in  feel- 
ing his  way  across  the*"  river.  Twice  he  needed  a  little 
urging,  but  Oscar  was  not  sure  that  it  was  on  account 
of  a  soft  bottom,  till,  with  only  a  slight  wetting,  he 
climbed  the  opposite  bank  and  looked  back  to  see 
Charlie  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  his  feet  in  the 
water,  using  his  spurs,  his  horse  lunging  and  flounder- 
ing,  and  the  pack  horse  literally  lying  back  in  the 
lead  line. 

Charlie  soon  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  pull 
both  horses  through,  and,  dropping  the  Une,  only  by 
the  utmost  urging  got  his  own  horse  up  the  bank. 

For  a  moment  the  pack  horse  struggled  to  follow, 
then  deliberately  gave  up,  and  looking  toward  them 
stood  perfectly  still,  sinking  deeper  and  deeper. 

"  A  horse  is  the  biggest  fool  that  breathes  when 
there's  anything  out  of  order  round  his  feet,"  Charlie 
muttered,  as  he  caught  the  end  of  a  coil  of  rope  he 
had  taken  from  the  pack  and  hung  on  his  saddle. 
"  He'll  kick  his  legs  off  if  there's  anything  behind  him 
that  he  doesn't  understand.  He'll  thrash  himself  to 
pieces  if  the  only  thing  that  will  save  him  is  keeping 
still,  and  there's  that  idiot  out  there  could  come  through 
well  enough,  if  he  would  only  flax  round,  but  he  won't 
move  a  hair,  unless  we  can  make  him,  till  he  has  sunk 


330  THE    LAST    OF   THE    TRAIL. 

above  his  shoulders,  then  he  will  deliberately  lie  down 
and  drown.  Well,  he  might  as  well  die  of  a  broken 
neck  as  that  way,"  he  added,  as  he  fastened  a  wooden 
pin  in  a  knot  he  had  made,  two  feet  from  the  end  of 
the  noose,  to  keep  it  from  slipping  too  far.  "  If  his 
spinal  column  holds,  we'll  save  his  life,  and  if  not 
we'll  save  him  from  drowning.  Many's  the  cow  I've 
pulled  out  of  a  marsh  by  this  means  ;  but  a  cow's  dif- 
ferent. She's  got  horns  to  catch  .on  to,  where  you 
won't  choke  her,  and  a  backbone  that  is  the  toughest 
that's  made.  Now,  then !  I  presume  I'll  scare  that 
ninny  so  that  he'll  jump  and  try  to  throw  himself,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  swung  the  rope  round  his  head. 

"  I'll  swim  out  and  put  it  on,"  Oscar  said  ;  but 
Charlie  replied : 

"  O,  no  !  I'll  get  it  there;  'r  and  the  rope  went  flying 
through  the  air. 

The  horse  did  attempt  to  dodge,  but  he  threw  his 
head  up,  instead  of  to  one  side,  and  the  noose  fell 
directly  over  it.  Before  he  had  time  to  drop  his  head 
Charlie  had  drawn  the  rope  till  the  knot  met  the  pin. 

"  Pretty  close  fit  ?  "  he  asked  the  horse,  and  added, 
"  It'll  loosen  round  your  windpipe  and  tighten  over 
your  ears  directly,  if  it  don't  slip  off."  Then  twisting 
the  end  over  his  saddle  he  started  his  horse  up  the 
bank. 

For  a  moment  the  pack  horse  seemed  inclined  to 
rebel,  and  Oscar  thought  his  neck  would  surely  break. 


THE  LAST  OP  THE  TRAIL.          337 

Then  he  began  to  struggle  and  advanced  a  foot  or  two ; 
but  the  moment  Charlie  stopped  pulling  he  stood  still. 

"  Look  at  that,  will  you  ?  "  Charlie  muttered.  "  He 
thinks  it's  a  seaside  resort,  and  he  wants  to  stay  all 
summer.  Or  else  he's  bound  to  get  his  neck  stretched 
if  he  can.  It  always  was  too  short.  Well,  here's 
another  try." 

By  slow  degrees  they  brought  him  out,  but  it  was 
nearly  noon  before  they  were  in  a  condition  to  start 
again.  When  they  were  under  way  once  more  Oscar 
said  : 

"  That  was  my  first  experience  with  quicksand,  and 
I'll  not  have  another  if  I  can  help  it.  The  next  time 
I  shall  vote  to  go  round." 

The  scenery  about  them  grew  constantly  more  mag- 
nificent. Wild  ravines  and  beetling  ledges  were  in 
grand  confusion ;  rivers  cutting  their  paths  through 
rocky  gorges ;  cliffs  and  mountain  peaks  ;  dark  defiles 
and  beautiful  ravines  where  the  grass  was  green  and 
the  wild  flowers  in  their  glory. 

"  We're  pretty  well  out  of  the  cattle  country,  now," 
Charlie  said,  "and  that's  what  we  shall  indulge  in  for 
the  next  stage."  He  pointed  to  a  drove  of  sheep  they 
were  approaching.  "  There's  lots  of  them  in  Colorado. 
And  there's  money  in  sheep,  too.  More  than  there  is 
in  cows,  I  reckon  ;  but  I  would  rather  spend  my  life 
in  state  prison,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  name  of  it,  than  to 
be  a  sheep  herder." 


338 


THE    LAST    OF   THE    TRAIL. 


"  I  can't  see  why,"  Oscar  said,  as  he  stood  watching 
the  sheep. 

"  Why,  just  look  at  it,"  Charlie  exclaimed  in  dis- 
gust. "  All  the  year  round  they  live  in  that  little  box 
of  a  cabin,  with  those  corrals  and  sheep  sheds  about 
them.  Every  night  the  sheep  have  to  be  shut  up,  and 


at  daylight  they  begin  to  bleat  to  get  out  again,  while 
the  herder  is  rushing  down  his  breakfast.  They  are 
let  out  through  a  narrow  shoot  and  counted,  to  be  sure 
they're  all  there,  and  the  herder  starts  after  them,  on 
foot,  with  a  coat  on  his  arm,  in  case  of  storm,  a  can- 
teen hung  on  his  shoulder  and  a  book  in  his  pocket. 
All  he  has  to  do  is  to  walk  on  till  they  are  ready  to 
stop,  and  then  stop  till  they  are  ready  to  go  on  again, 
and  follow  them  if  he  can  when  they  are  frightened  by 
a  coyote  or  a  piece  of  paper,  and  run  like  mad  till  they 


THE    LAST    OF   THE   TRAIL.  339 

fetch  up  against  a  cliff,  if  they  happen  to  start  on  a 
level  with  the  bottom,  or  run  right  over  the  edge  and 
break  their  necks,  if  they  are  on  the  top.  They  are 
nothing  but  lumps  of  mutton  stuck  on  legs ;  all  wool, 
and  no  sense.  That  dog  along  with  him  does  all  the 
work,  and  does  it  a  great  deal  better  than  the  man 
could.  He  does  that  same,  day  after  day,  the  year 
round.  The  only  change  that  comes,  even  with  winter, 
is  that  he  dresses  a  little  warmer,  and  don't  sit  around 
quite  so  much.  If  a  prairie  storm  breaks  on  him  in 
the  winter,  before  he  expects  it,  the  woolly  idiots  will 
start  and  run  before  the  wind.  If  they  get  tuckered 
before  they  kill  themselves  by  running  over  a  cliff  or 
the  like,  they  stop  and  begin  to  bunch  up,  climbing 
higher  and  higher  on  top  of  each  other,  and  if  the  storm 
proves  at  all  long  or  severe,  the  bottom  ones  are,  of 
course,  smothered,  and  the  coyotes  and  wolves  get  the 
top  ones,  while  the  herder  sometimes  saves  a  few  from 
the  middle.  In  the  meantime  he  cannot  leave  them,  no 
matter  how  long  the  storm  lasts,  though  he  has  nothing 
to  do  but  stand  and  look  on  and  freeze  to  death. 
Sheep  do  have  an  everlasting  pull  on  life,  though, 
especially  against  starvation.  That  terribly  tough  win- 
ter, ten  years  ago,  they  dug  some  sheep  out  alive  that 
had  been  under  eleven  feet  of  snow  for  three  weeks. 
That  sounds  wild,  but  I  think  it's  true.  They  said 
that  the  creatures  had  worked  their  way  about  till  they 
reached  the  bottom,  and  got  at  the  grass  there.  Then 


340  THE  LAST  OF  THE  TRAIL. 

every  night  they  have  to  be  driven  back  to  the  ranch 
again,  corraled  and  counted  once  more  to  see  that 
none  have  been  lost  through  the  day.  In  May  comes 
the  lambing,  and  every  one  puts  to  like  a  professional 
hospital  nurse  to  keep  the  little  fools  alive  for  the 
first  three  months  or  so,  before  they  are  able  to  take 
care  of  themselves.  In  June  comes  the  shearing,  and 
fellows  get  six  cents  apiece  for  barbering  the  stupid 
things.  Then  the  biggest  part  of  them  have  to  be 
dipped  in  a  big  trough,  with  water  and  a  little  tobacco 
in  it,  to  cure  the  scab.  O,  yes  !  there's  money  in  it ; 
but  compare  that  life  with  the  life  of  a  cow-puncher, 
and  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  Oscar  replied,  fully  enthused  with  the 
prejudices  of  his  chosen  profession  against  sheep. 

Their  next  stopping  place  for  the  night  was  a  pic- 
turesque little  village  in  this  isolated  sheep-raising 
district.  It  was,  as  it  must  be,  a  sheep-town. 

"  I  declare  !  "  Oscar  exclaimed.  "  I  thought  we'd 
seen  every  variety  of  settlement  imaginable;  but  if 
here  isn't  another  lay-out.  How  woolly  and  stupid 
and  pretty  and  neat  everything  is  here  !  " 

There  were  only  three  stores  in  the  entire  village, 
and  two  of  those  were  locked.  There  was  not  a  liquor 
sign  to  be  seen  anywhere. 

They  entered  the  only  store  that  was  open,  but  even 
then  they  had  to  rouse  the  dealer,  who  was  sound 
asleep,  stretched  out  upon  the  counter. 


THE    LAST    OF   THE   TRAIL.  341 

After  hearing  what  they  wanted,  he  yawned  and 
stretched,  and  replied  that  he  was  out  of  it,  but  that 
the  store  opposite  had  some.  They  told  him  that  the 
door  was  locked.  He  yawned  again  and  stretched, 
and  finally  said  that  he  believed  "  Bill  did  say  he  was 
goin'  out  to  his  sheep  ranch,  this  arternoon."  There- 
upon he  got  up,  invited  them  to  follow  him,  led  the 
way  to  the  house  next  Bill's  store,  asked  for  the  key, 
went  in,  put  up  the  required  articles,  put  the  pay  in 
the  till,  locked  the  door,  returned  the  key,  and  went 
back  to  finish  his  nap. 

"Did  you  ever  see  anything  like  it?"  Oscar  ex- 
claimed. "  Upon  my  word,  I  am  so  sleepy  myself  that 
I  can  hardly  keep  my  eyes  open.  Let's  turn  in,  and 
make  a  big  daylight  start." 

The  whole  world  could  liardly  produce  a  counterpart 
of  the  magnificent  scenery  which  grew  grander  every 
hour  about  them,  as  they  wound  in  and  out  among 
the  deep  defiles,  climbed  the  steep  declivities  or  crept 
along  the  sides  of  precipitous  ledges,  nearer  and  nearer 
to  Leadville. 

All  in  vain  Oscar  tried  to  arrange  with  himself  some 
plan  of  action.  He  only  knew  that  every  step  of  ad- 
vance made  him  so  much  the  more  anxious  to  be  there, 
and  at  last,  travel-worn,  dusty,  tired  and  sunburned, 
they  entered  Leadville  ;  Leadville  with  all  its  tips  and 
downs,  socially  and  physically ;  Leadville,  without  a 
street  that  is  level,  without  a  citizen  whose  life  has 


342  THE    LAST    OF    THE    TRAIL. 

been  more  smooth  ;  with  all  its  smoke  and  dirt  from 
the  great  smelting  furnaces ;  with  all  its  swift  vicissi- 
tudes, from  grub  stakes,  gone,  to  millions  made  in  an 
hour.  Leadville,  high  up  among  the  grand  mountains, 
how  many  strange  people  have  come  to  you,  with  how 
many  strange  fears  behind  them,  and  how  many 
strange  hopes  ahead  ?  And  how  have  you  treated 
them  ?  How  have  they  gone  away  from  you  ?  And, 
of  them  all,  who  ever  came  to  you  with  stranger  hopes 
and  stranger  fears  than  Oscar  Peterson  ?  What  have 
you  in  store  for  him  ?  How  will  he  go  away  from  you  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

OSCAR  grew  more  and  more  thoughtful  as  they  ap- 
proached their  destination,  and  at  supper  he  hardly 
spoke  a  word.  Charlie  easily  appreciated  his  silence, 
and  knew  that  it  would  be  better  to  respect  it  than 
try  to  interrupt  it ;  hence,  when  Oscar  proposed  a  walk, 
after  supper,  Charlie  made  an  excuse  that  he  must 
attend  to  some  arrangements  about  the  horses,  so  that 
Oscar  could  be  left  entirely  to  himself.  He  was  not 
in  need  of  advice  or  protection,  now.  He  was  upon 
the  eve  of  a  battle  that  must  be  skillfully  fought,  aiit^ 
he  needed  solitude  to  lay  out  his  campaign. 

Charlie  was  especially  anxious,  too,  that  Oscar 
should  not  ask  his  advice,  for  he  felt  utterly  unable  to 
give  it.  Except  through  some  accident,  he  could  not 
see  how  their  mission  in  Leadville  could  possibly  be 
accomplished,  and  accidents  never  happen  when  one  is 
on  the  watch  for  them. 

"  I  don't  suppose  there  is  any  use  in  wearing  this 
343 


344  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

thing,"  Oscar  remarked,  taking  off  his  belt  and  pistol. 
"  It  seems  odd  to  begin  to  be  half-civilized  again." 

He  laid  the  belt  on  the  table  and  went  out  alone. 
He  had  been  thinking  all  day,  all  the  month,  in  fact, 
and  there  was  nothing  new  to  think  about,  yet  he 
was  thoroughly  wrapped  in  his  thoughts,  and  wandered 
down  the  street  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  hat 
pulled  down  over  his  forehead,  and  his  eyes  on  the 
ground.  He  was  asking  himself  what  he  had  come 
there  for ;  and  to  his  utter  astonishment  he  found  that 
with  all  his  thinking  he  had  not  thought  out  an  answer 
to  that  first  question.  Surely  he  had  come  to  find  the 
man  who  shot  his  father  ;  but  what  then  ?  He  wanted 
to  kill  him ;  but  that  was  out  of  the  question.  He 
had  not  proof  enough  of  anything  to  bring  an  open 
charge  against  him,  and  he  began  to  realize  the  force 
of  Charlie's  advice  —  to  wait  till  some  accident  should 
place  the  man  in  his  power. 

He  had  not  thought  much  about  it  at  the  time  when 
it  was  given,  for  they  were  still  a  long  way  from  Lead- 
ville,  and  the  rest  of  the  journey  demanded  their  im- 
mediate attention.  Now  there  was  nothing  more  to  do. 
They  had  reached  Leadville.  In  the  morning  they 
could  easily  find  the  man,  and  the  thought  that  from 
that  moment  it  was  simply  "  wait,"  was  almost  more 
than  he  could  endure,  in  prospect,  even. 

In  his  worn  and  dust-grimed  clothes  he  was  not  an 
object  to  attract  attention.  No  one  noticed  him,  and 


THE   MAN    INSIDE.  345 

he  paid  very  little  attention  to  any  one.  It  was  not 
so  much  that  he  was  deeply  engaged  in  thought,  MS 
that  he  was  trying  to  think ;  for  he  smiled  when  a 
little  boot-black  accosted  him  with,  "  Shine  yer  boots, 
gent?  "  and  looking  down  at  his  dusty  boots  he  won- 
dered how  they  would  look  if  they  really  were  sinned. 
He  heard  the  newsboys  calling  the  Chronicle,  J?clij>xc 
and  Reveille,  and  wondered  what  the  great  world  had 
been  doing  while  he  was  so  far  away  from  it,  out  on 
the  plains.  He  caught  snatches  of  conversations,  and 
said  to  himself  that  if  he  were  to  be  dropped,  blind- 
folded, into  a  frontier  town,  he  was  sure  that  he  could 
tell,  in  an  instant,  what  sort  of  a  place  it  was.  "  How 
deep  are  you?"  "Struck  it  rich?"  "Contact," 
"  Carbonates,"  "  Claims,"  "  Surveyed  in,"  "  Pans 
out,"  "  Runs  high,"  "  How  does  she  assay  ?  "  seemed 
to  form  the  greater  part  of  the  English  language,  as 
it  was  spoken  in  a  mining  town,  whether  by  high  or 
low,  magnate  or  pauper.  He  heard  ragged  and  illiter- 
ate fellows  talking  of  millions  as  though  they  were 
dimes,  on  one  side  of  him,  while  on  the  other  side  a 
delicate  and  refined,  but  pale  and  haggard  boy,  not 
much  older  than  himself,  in  the  very  best  of  English 
was  asking  for  enough  to  purchase  a  loaf  of  bread  to 
keep  him  from  starvation.  He  caught  a  remark  made 
by  one  of  two  men  standing  alone  at  the  corner  of  an 
alley:  "I  don't  go  pards  with  nobody,  Bill,  but  our 
claims  ain't  neither  one  of  'urn  worth  what  it  orter  be, 


346  THE   MAN   INSIDE. 

unless'n  they're  joined.     Now  I'll  tell  yer  what  I'll 
do ;  I'll  give  or  take  at  one  million  and  a  half,  down." 

Oscar  was  close  beside  them  as  the  other  replied: 
"  Another  fellow  took  out  that  claim  for  me,  and  I 
sha'n't  have  the  papers,  clean,  for  a  week,  yet.  But 
I've  got  a  place  up  in  Manitoba  —  nigh  a  hundred 
thousand  acres  ;  mine.s,  stock  farm,  wheat,  cattle  range, 
and  a  village  included  —  that's  worth  more  than  two 
and  a  half  millions,  if  it  is  a  cent.  I'll  swap  that  for 
your  claim." 

By  that  time  Oscar  had  turned  slowly,  and  entered 
the  dark  alley  behind  them.  As  he  passed  he  very 
carefully  noted  the  features  of  one  of  the  men.  It 
was  not  the  man  who  owned  the  farm  in  Manitoba. 
Pie  stood  with  his  back  toward  him.  It  was  a  strik- 
ing face  which  he  saw,  however,  and  he  felt  sure  that 
he  should  know  it  if  he  saw  it  again.  He  lost  a  sen- 
tence or  two  which  followed,  but  the  moment  he  knew 
that  he  was  hidden  in  the  shadows  he  turned  and 
walked  back.  This  time  as  he  approached,  one  of 
them  was  saying :  "  It's  time  the  stage  was  off,  this 
minute.  Let  the  thing  lie  open  till  I  get  back." 

With  that  he  started  down  the  street.  Oscar  was 
close  behind  him.  He  gave  one  quick  glance  at  the 
man  who  was  left  behind.  It  was  not  the  man  from 
Manitoba,  so  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  the  other  and 
followed.  There  was  no  time  to  consider  what  to  do 
He  was  simply  determined  not  to  l»se  sight  of  him. 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  347 

A  man  was  holding  the  stage  door  open,  evidently 
waiting  for  him,  as  he  hurried  up.  He  entered  with- 
out a  word.  The  door  closed  with  a  bang,  the  whip 
sounded  with  an  impatient  crack,  and  the  stage 
started. 

Oscar  reached  the  spot  in  time  to  catch  a  single 
glimpse  of  the  interior.  There  were  several  people 
there  ;  he  could  not  tell  how  many,  and  a  lantern, 
dimly  burning,  hung  in  the  center  of  the  stage. 

"Where  is  that  stage  going?"  Oscar  asked  the 
man  who  had  stood  by  the  door  ;  but  he  was  out  of 
patience  at  the  best ;  he  had  just  turned  to  speak  to  a 
policeman,  and  withal  Oscar  was  so  little  acquainted 
with  the  localities  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leadville, 
that  he  could  only  make  out  from  the  short  reply  that, 
after  several  stops,  the  stage  connected  with  an  early 
morning  express  train,  somewhere,  and  then  returned 
to  Leadville. 

The  stage  was  already  almost  out  of  sight.  He 
turned  quickly  to  the  two  men,  exclaiming,  "  Will  one 
of  you  please  send  to  the  Ranchman's  Hotel  and  tell 
Half-circle-dash  Charlie  that  I  have  taken  this  stage 
and  will  be  back  in  the  morning  ?  "  and  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answer  he  started  on  a  run  after  the  stage. 

The  reply  was  not  very  polite  or  promising,  and  if 
Oscar  had  heard  it,  it  would  only  have  added  to  the 
difficulties  of  his  present  situation,  by  making  it  very 
doubtful  if  Charlie's  anxiety  over  his  non-appearance 


348  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

was  to  be  relieved.  He  would  not  have  stopped,  how- 
ever, for  he  had  done  the  best  he  could  to  notify  Charlie, 
and  he  proposed  to  follow  the  man  inside  the  stage  at 
all  hazards. 

There  may  have  been  other  and  wiser  ways  to  have 
accomplished  the  end,  but  he  had  no  time  to  sit  down 
and  think  it  over,  and  a  boy  of  sixteen  may  be  par- 
doned, at  such  a  moment,  for  following  his  first  im- 
pulse at  the  expense  of  sober  second  thought. 

The  policeman  and  his  companion  expressed  their 
opinions  in  a  thoroughly  Western  and  purely  American 
fashion,  as  they  watched  the  retreating  figure,  then 
they  laughed,  and  dropped  the  matter  entirely. 

Three  hours  later,  when  the  policeman  was  being  re- 
lieved, the  officer  in  charge  asked  him  if  he  had  seen 
anything  of  a  young  ranger  without  firearms,  who  had 
been  missing  since  early  in  the  evening,  and  whose 
absence  was  causing  considerable  excitement  in  the 
Ranchman's  Hotel.  He  replied  that  he  had  not,  but 
as  he  was  walking  home  he  recalled  the  incident,  and 
went  round  to  the  hotel  to  see  if  there  was  any  con- 
nection between  the  two. 

In  the  meantime  Oscar  had  a  good  run  to  overtake 
the  stage,  which  gave  him  time  to  remember  that  he 
had  no  money  with  him  to  pay  his  fare,  and  that  he 
could  hardly  accomplish  what  he  was  after  by  riding 
inside,  even  if  he  had.  He  did  not  stop  to  consider 
any  other  means  to  the  same  end,  but  decided  to  catch 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  349 

on  behind  and,  if  possible,  find  a  seat  on  the  baggage 
truck.  He  found  the  great  leather  boot  drawn  down, 
but  there  was  only  a  single  trunk  beneath  it  and  room 
enough  to  stow  himself  away.  Before  long  it  began 
to  rain.  The  night  was  cold  and  the  boot  was,  after 
all,  a  great  convenience. 

"  If  this  trunk  should  stop  before  he  does,  it  would 
be  pretty  bad  for  me,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  clung 
to  the  leather  straps  to  prevent  being  jolted  from  the 
rack  altogether  ;  for  the  road  was  rough  and  the  night 
as  dark  as  it  might  be. 

Only  a  few  miles  out  the  stage  stopped  at  a  mining 
settlement,  and  two  men  got  out.  With  fear  and 
trembling  Oscar  peeked  from  under  the  curtain  ;  but 
the  trunk  was  not  disturbed,  and  he  was  sure,  both 
from  their  voices  and  dress,  that  neither  of  them  was 
the  man  he  was  following.  A  moment  later  they  were 
rumbling  and  bumping  on  again,  and  soon  it  was  evi- 
dent, from  the  sounds,  that  they  were  dropping  down 
into  a  gulch  of  some  sort. 

The  rain  rattled  upon  the  leather  curtain.  The 
wind  rushed  and  sighed  among  the  branches  of  pine- 
trees.  The  brake  groaned  and  grated  as  it  was  held 
almost  continually  against  the  wheels.  The  horses' 
hoofs  splashed  upon  the  wet  road,  and  now  and  then 
the  sharp  crack  of  the  whip  was  followed  by  a  lurch  of 
the  coach,  and  Oscar  had  to  cling  desperately  to  the 
straps  for  a  moment,  till  the  horses  slowed  down  again. 


350  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  change.  There  was  a  shout 
from  in  front  and  a  sharp  crack  of  the  whip ;  but  the 
stage  did  not  start  up  with  a  jerk.  It  simply  jolted 
to  one  side  and  stood  still.  Something  must  have 
broken.  Oscar  cautiously  lifted  a  corner  of  the  cur- 
tain. The  coach  was  close  against  a  rocky  ledge,  on 
that  side,  and  the  ledge  was  bright  as  day.  lie  was 
sure  that  no  stage  lantern  gave  a  light  like  that,  and 
as  his  eye  ran  along  the  dark  shadow  cast  by  the  coach, 
against  the  rock,  he  could  easily  mark  the  outlines  of 
the  driver  and  whipmaii,  and  that  their  hands  were  up. 
It  flashed  upon  him,  then,  that  the  stage  had  been 
held  up,  and  that  they  were  in  the  hands  of  high- 
waymen. He  smiled  as  he  thought  of  the  ludicrous 
side  of  the  situation,  so  far  as  he  was  concerned,  and 
wondered  what  he  had  about  him  that  he  could  give 
up,  in  case  they  should  look  under  the  boot. 

In  an  instant,  however,  before  a  word  had  been 
spoken,  there  was  a  crash  from  a  revolver,  and  a  sharp 
groan  from  the  man  inside,  followed  by  the  remark 
from  outside  the  stage,  "  Ef  yer  hedden't  'a'  pulled 
yer  shooter,  Bill,  ye'd  not  'a'  kotched  it  quite  so  quick, 
mebbe." 

The  whole  situation  was  thus  entirely  changed. 
That  man  inside  was  something  in  which  Oscar  took 
a  lively  interest.  The  highwaymen  were  upon  the 
right  and  toward  the  front.  The  rocky  ledge  was  on 
the  left.  Quickly  emerging  from  his  hiding-place,  at 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  351 

the  most  distant  corner,  Oscar  stepped  upon  the  wheel 
and  cautiously  looked  over  the  top  of  the  stage.  Only 
two  inen  were  visible  —  two  shadows,  in  the  light 
which  the  ledge  reflected  back  from  a  powerful  dark 
lantern  which  one  of  them  held  full  upon  the  stage. 
With  the  other  hand  he  covered  the  two  upon  the  box, 
with  a  heavy  six-shooter.  The  other  man  was  evi- 
dently the  one  who  fired  the  shot,  and,  pistol  in  hand, 
he  was  now  slowly  approaching  the  coach. 

Oscar  felt  for  his  pistol,  forgetting  that  he  had  left 
it  at  the  hotel.  For  an  instant  he  hesitated.  The 
sense  of  being  unarmed  weakened  him.  His  head 
was  in  the  light  of  the  lantern,  but  the  attention  of  the 
two  men  was  so  thoroughly  absorbed  that  neither  of 
them  thought  of  looking  at  that  back  corner  of  the 
roof.  He  could  easily  climb  down  again,  and  doubt- 
less remain  hidden,  or  he  could  even  show  himself 
without  much  fear  of  harm.  The  only  thing  that  lie 
could  not  do  without  danger  was  to  attempt  to  check 
those  men.  Btit  it  looked  as  though  they  intended  to 
kill  the  man  inside,  and  that  one  thing  Oscar  was  de- 
termined to  resist.  How  should  he  do  it  ?  Why  had 
he  left  his  pistol  behind  him  ? 

These  thoughts  flashed  across  his  mind,  but  his  eyes 
were  busy^  looking  about  him.  Two  iron  shoes,  used 
to  hold  the  back  wheels,  upon  the  worst  hills,  lay  on 
the  roof  of  the  coach,  within  his  reach.  \\  hile  that 
lantern  burned  he  was  helpless.  It  was  the  lightning 


352  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

work  of  the  brain  in  an  emergency.  He  caught  one 
of  those  iron  shoes  —  the  one  without  a  chain  —  and 
with  all  his  strength  hurled  it  at  the  lantern. 

If  he  missed  it,  his  work  would  be  over.  And  if  he 
had  calculated  his  chances  of  missing,  he  would  never 
have  fired  that  shoe.  But  he  did  not  calculate  any- 
thing. He  fired  the  shoe,  and  tire  next  instant  the 
iron  crashed  into  the  lantern,  smashing  it  to  atoms 
and  striking  the  man  behind  it  a  sharp  blow.  His 
pistol  flashed,  but  without  aim,  and  did  no  harm,  while 
a  volley  of  curses  sounded  in  the  darkness,  mingling 
with  the  groans  of  the  man  inside. 

Oscar  threw  himself  upon  the  top  of  the  stage, 
caught  the  other  iron  shoe  in  his  hand,  and  lying  at 
full  length,  holding  the  end  of  the  shoe  over  the  edge 
of  the  iron  rail,  in  much  the  appearance  and  outline 
of  a  pistol,  he  shouted  : 

"Now,  then,  gentlemen,  the  first  man  to  move  gets 
a  touch  of  this."  He  tapped  the  shoe  against  the  rail. 

All  that  they  could  see  in  the  darkness  was  just  as 
good  as  a  large  navy  revolver,  and  what  they  heard 
could  not  have  been  better  made  by  the  barrel  of 
a  six-shooter.  Only  waiting  a  moment  to  note  the 
effect,  Oscar  continued,  "  Drive  on,  Jerry  ;  the  road  is 
clear." 

To  his  own  absolute  astonishment,  the  whipman 
cracked  his  whip,  the  driver  took  his  foot  from  the 
brake  and  caught  up  the  reins,  the  horses  started  at  a 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  353 

rapid  pace,  and  the  two  shadows  stood  motionless  till 
they  were  lost  in  the  darkness. 

What  Oscar  really  did  expect,  he  himself  could  not 
have  told.  Realizing  his  own  position,  it  did  not  seem 
possible  to  him  that  men  should  be  such  fools.  His 
words  were  only  the  inspiration  of  the  intense  emer- 
gency of  the  moment.  He  did  not  know  how  closely 
he  had  imitated  the  clear,  fearless  voice  of  authority 
with  which  Charlie  gave  his  commands  to  the  three 
highwaymen  in  the  other  gulch.  It  seemed  so  utterly 
absurd  that  two  road  agents  could  be  reduced,  and  two 
armed  stage  men  relieved  of  fear  and  set  at  liberty,  by 
a  sixteen-year-old  boy,  holding  an  iron  stage  shoe  in 
his  hand,  that  he  lay  there,  in  silence,  trying  to  make 
himself  believe  that  it  was  a  dream. 

He  was  quickly  reminded  of  the  reality,  however, 
for  before  the  stage  was  out  of  hearing,  one  of  the  fel- 
lows behind  called : 

"Yer  needn't  'a'  been  so  tarnal  pertickeler.  We 
ain't  a-jumpin'  no  claims  ternight.  All  we  wanted 
was  the  man  inside.  Reckon  he's  got  a  dose  o'  in- 
t'rest,  any  way,  and  he'll  git  the,  principal  afore  he 
hears  the  end  on  us." 

Then  all  was  still  but  the  splashing  of  the  rain,  and 
the  wheels  and  the  horses'  feet,  and  the  cracking  of 
the  whip  and  the  groaning  of  the  man  inside. 

"  Where  in  thunder  did  you  come  aboard  ? "  the 
man  asked,  without  looking  back. 


354  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

"  I  climbed  up  here  when  you  were  standing  by  the 
rock,"  Oscar  replied  quickly;  and  to  prevent  the  man 
from  questioning  him  further  he  asked,  "  Where  did 
those  two  men  come  from  ?  " 

"  Reckon  they're  two  we  brought  from  Leadville, 
who  got  off  at  Happy  Holler,  and  skipped  across  the 
gulch,"  the  man  muttered  in  a  surly  way  ;  for  it  does 
not  increase  a  stage  driver's  good  nature  to  be  held  up. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  man  inside  ?  "  Oscar 
asked. 

"  Reckon  he's  got  a  hole  in  him,"  the  whipman 
replied,  and  the  two  laughed. 

"  I  mean,  what  did  they  want  of  him  ?  "  Oscar » re- 
peated rather  sharply,  for  he  did  not  relish  their  fun. 

"  Dunno,"  ejaculated  the  driver.  "  Mebbe  .  he's 
been  jumpin'  some  claim  ;  got  their  diggin's  surveyed 
in  ag'in  'um,  or  suthin'.  They  acted  like  they'd  been 
livin'  on  snaps  fur  one  while,  ter  hold  up  a  stage  with 
only  one  man  in  it,  and  go  shoot  him  the  first  lick." 

"What's  snaps?  "Oscar  said,  simply  to  keep  the 
man  talking  for  a  moment  more,  while  he  thought  out 
what  to  do. 

"  Waal,  I  reckon  you  ain't  frum  these  diggin's,  nor 
iiowhar  in  Collerady,"  the  driver  replied,  and  turned 
his  attention  to  the  horses.  Oscar  thought  that  was 
all  the  response  he  was  to  receive,  and  was  not  at  all 
particular  for  more,  but  a  moment  later  the  man  con- 
tinued :  "  When  a  feller  can't  wash  his  livin'  outer  the 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  355 

ground,  in  these  parts,  he's  got  ter  take  his  gun,  hasn't 
he,  ef  he  don't  wauter  starve,  and  go  out  an'  snap 
at  sutliin'  ;  and  ef  he  don't  bag  no  more'n  these  ones 
did  ternight,  he's  jest  got  ter  live  on  them  snaps, 
luisn'the?" 

Oscar  was  not  in  a  mood  to  reply.  He  simply 
remarked : 

"  Haul  up  a  second,  please ;  I  want  to  see  if  I  can 
do  anything  for  the  man  inside." 

The  driver  was  grouty,  and  evidently  more  anxious 
to  get  out  of  the  gulch  than  stop  to  attend  to  his 
passenger.  At  first  he  did  not  seem  inclined  to  slow 
down  at  all.  Oscar  was  determined,  however,  and  as 
he  deliberately  stepped  between  the  two,  the  driver 
reluctantly  put  his  foot  on  the  brake. 

"  Whar's  yer  irons  ?  "  he  asked,  as  Oscar  passed 
in  front  of  him.  "  Better  not  leave  'um  up  here,  fur 
ye  inought  want  'um  ag'in." 

"  I  haven't  got  any,"  Oscar  replied,  as  he  felt  for 
the  first  step  down.  "  I  didn't  have  anything  but 
your  old  brake-shoe.  The  man  inside  has  got  a  pistol, 
and  I  can  borrow  that  if  necessary." 

The  driver  grabbed  him  by  the  shoulder,  and  stared 
at  him  for  a  moment  by  the  light  of  the  box  lantern. 

"  You  hain't  got  no  irons  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  Waal, 
I'm  bio  wed !  But  you  hain't,  and  that's  no  lie.  Jim, 
jest  you  take  a  good  look  at  this  youngster,  will  ye  ? 
an'  be  ready  to  swear  to't ;  fur  when  I  tell  the  boys 


356  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

'bout  this  night's  biz,  thar  ain't  a  soul  in  Leadville 
will  believe  me,  well  es  they  know  me."  Then  turn- 
ing to  Oscar,  in  a  manner  very  different  from  before, 
he  added  :  "  Yes,  sir ;  I'll  hold  up  fur  yer  ter  git  in- 
side, sir ;  an'  excuse  me  fur  not  invitin'  yer  outer  the 
reen  afore.  I  didn't  notict  yer  hadn't  got  yer  gum- 
coat  on.  An'  'low  me  ter  say,  sir,  whens'ever  yer  my 
way  ag'in,  jest  you  squat  on  any  claim  o'  mine  you 
come  acrost.  I'll  allers  count  it  an  honor,  an'  it'll 
never  cost  yer  a  dime." 

The  moment  the  man  let  go  of  his  shoulder,  Oscar 
jumped,  and  as  he  entered  and  drew  the  coach  door 
together  behind  him,  the  stage  started  again. 

All  was  still  and  dark  inside.  Oscar  lit  a  match, 
and  found  the  swinging  lantern.  It  had  evidently 
been  extinguished  as  a  precaution,  before  the  hold-up. 
It  gave  out  a  dim,  flickering  light,  but  enough  to  dis- 
close the  form  of  the  wounded  man,  lying  upon  the 
back  seat.  He  was  breathing  heavily,  and  occasionally 
groaning. 

Oscar  had  had  very  little  experience  in  gun-shot 
wounds,  but  he  found  the  bullet-hole  in  the  man's 
side,  did  what  he  could  to  stop  the  blood,  arranged 
the  seats  so  that  he  could  lie  more  comfortably  and 
could  not  fall,  and  then  turned  away  with  a  shudder, 
and  sat  down  with  his  back  toward  him.  Neither  of 
them  had  spoken  a  word. 

There  was  one  mark  which  he  could  easily  have 


THE   MAN    INSIDE.  357 

found,  which  would  have  told  him  at  once  if  this  was 
the  man  he  was  seeking ;  but  Oscar  did  not  dare  to 
look  for  it.  He  did  not  dare  to  know,  alone  in  that 
dim,  rumbling  stage  coach,  that  the  helpless  being 
lying  on  the  seat  behind  him,  was  the  man  who  shot 
his  father. 

His  fingers  were  clutched  till  the  nails  cut  into  his 
palms.  He  ground  his  teeth  till  they  ached.  He 
knew  that  he  was  right.  He  knew  that  if  he  looked 
he  should  find  a  finger  missing  upon  one  hand.  Every 
throb  of  his  heart  told  him  that  he  was  close  beside 
the  man  he  wanted.  He  knew  that  the  man  was  in 
his  power,  to  do  precisely  as  he  would  with  him  ;  that 
a  better  and  safer  opportunity  could  not  have  been 
prepared.  He  remembered  Charlie's  warning,  that 
there  would  be  no  chance  for  him  in  an  open  struggle 
for  justice.  Had  he  not  said  to  himself,  early  in  the 
evening,  that  his  only  hope  lay  in  some  accident  that 
should  place  the  man  in  his  power  —  and  had  not  the 
accident  occurred,  even  without  his  waiting  for  :in 
hour  ?  And  was  there  not  something  almost  providen- 
tial in  the  strange  combination  of  incidents  which  had 
led  him  on,  step  by  stop,  to  this  most  perfect  situation 
he  could  have  planned  ? 

The  man  was  conscious,  fully  conscious,  enough  to 
realize  that  it  was  revenge,  and  understand  who  it 
\v;is  that  would  accomplish  it ;  yet  if  his  dead  body 
was  taken  from  the  stage  at  the  next  stopping-place, 


358  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

even  the  driver  on  the  box  would  never  dream  but 
what  it  was  the  bullet  that  had  killed  him. 

Every  nerve  and  muscle  in  Oscar's  body  trembled 
and  quivered.  He  longed  to  turn  about  and  catch 
the  man  by  the  throat;  to  watch  him  struggle  and 
strangle ;  to  look  into  his  eyes  and  see  him  die,  while 
he  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  You  could  escape  the  law, 
you  coward !  but  you  could  not  escape  from  me." 

Why  was  he  brought  there  if  not  for  that  ?  Every 
savage  passion  of  his  nature  seemed  boiling  and  seeth- 
ing in  him.  He  shuddered  to  realize  what  fearful 
thoughts  he  was  capable  of  thinking,  and  to  know  that 
only  one  slender  thread  of  doubt,  which  an  instant 
could  dissipate,  was  restraining  him  from  putting 
those  horrible  thoughts  into  actions  that  would  live 
with  him  just  as  long  as  his  heart  beat.  He  clung  to 
that  doubt,  for  strength  to  resist  the  temptation,  as  a 
drowning  man  might  to  a  straw. 

The  man  behind  became  more  restless,  moaning  and 
talking  to  himself. 

"  I  must  get  away  from  here,"  he  muttered.  "  I 
must  sell  out  and  get  away.  Why  didn't  I  kill  the 
boy,  too?  Then  I  could  have  got  a  clean  title  to  the 
mine  without  waiting.  I  could  sell  out  and  go  to- 
morrow. I'll  kill  him.  Yes,  yes !  I'll  kill  him  yet." 

Oscar  covered  his  ears  with  his  hands,  and  clutched 
his  elbows  between  his  knees. 

"  What  ?  "  the  man  behind  him  shrieked.      "•  I  did 


THE    MAN    INSIDE.  359 

not  kill  his  father  either  ?  He  has  got  well  and  come 
after  me  ?  " 

Then  he  shrieked  again,  and  began  to  struggle,  and 
Oscar  turned  and  held  him  on  the  seat,  to  prevent  his 
falling  or  injuring  himself,  and  talked  to  him  to  quiet 
him.  The  slender  thread  had  broken,  but  he  found, 
to  his  astonishment,  that  after  all  he  had  a  will  that 
was  stronger  without  its  help.  He  had  not  laid  a 
finger  on  the  man,  except  to  care  for  him,  when  the 
stage  stopped  at  the  shanty  tavern  of  another  mining 
settlement,  and  the  driver  opened  the  door. 

The  innkeeper  was  much  more  accustomed  than 
Oscar  to  the  treatment  of  gun-shot  wounds.  The  man 
was  delirious  now,  but  he  was  soon  in  bed,  in  spite  of 
his  struggles,  and  after  a  hot  drink,  which  the  inn- 
keeper prepared,  he  sank  into  a  heavy,  restless  sleep. 

Oscar  learned  that  the  same  stage  would  pass  in 
two  hours,  on  its  return  to  Leadville,  and  while  he 
watched  at  the  bedside  he  wrote  to  Charlie,  briefly 
recounting  the  circumstances,  and  asking  him  to  come 
at  once  with  — 

There  his  hand  rebelled.  Every  force  of  nature  in 
him  urged  him  to  drop  the  pen.  Was  this  doing  the 
duty  for  which  he  had  come  all  the  way  from  Mani- 
toba ?  Was  this  taking  advantage  of  the  opportunities 
which  Providence  had  placed  within  his  reach  ? 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment.  lie  looked  steadily 
into  the  sleeper's  face.  He  saw  the  hand,  \\ith  a 


360  THE    MAN    INSIDE. 

missing  finger,  twitching  and  clutching,  as  it  lay, 
uneasy,  on  the  spread. 

"  If  I  know  what  my  duty  is,  I  can  do  it,"  he  mut- 
tered, and  a  moment  later  he  turned  to  the  paper, 
and  in  a  firm  hand  finished  the  sentence  —  "  with  a 
doctor." 

He  did  not  realize  it  then,  perhaps  he  never  will, 
but  it  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  if  his  entire  life  should 
be  as  crowded  with  acts  of  bravery  as  his  short  trip 
from  Manitoba  to  Leadville,  when  they  are  all  summed 
up  in  one,  they  will  not  equal  the  real  courage  required 
for  that  one  act,  by  the  bedside  of  the  wounded  man. 

Oscar  was  astonished  to  find  how  easy  it  was  for 
him  after  that  to  bathe  the  wound  with  arnica  and 
witch-hazel,  steeped  over  the  tavern  fire  ;  to  administer 
the  golden-rod  tea  and  the  sleeping-mixture,  whenever 
the  man  began  to  moan,  and  to  do  all  that  he  would 
for  any  sufferer,  for  the  man  he  found  inside  the  coach. 

It  was  as  if  he  had  been  laboriously  climbing  a  steep 
hill,  where  every  step  was  harder  than  the  one  before, 
to  find  that  the  last,  almost  despairing  struggle  had 
suddenly  brought  him  to  the  summit,  and  that  from 
that  instant  the  path  was  leading  down  the  hill  again, 
making  each  step  easier  than  the  last.  He  even  found 
himself  anxiously  counting  the  time,  eagerly  listening 
for  the  sound  of  horses'  feet,  that  should  announce  the 
arrival  of  Charlie  and  the  doctor. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

BEFORE  ten  o'clock  Charlie  came  with  the  doctor. 
He  was  a  rough  and  hardened  frontiersman,  like  all 
the  rest,  dabbling  as  much  in  mines  as  in  medicine ; 
but  as  skillful  and  experienced  in  bullet  wounds  as  a 
surgeon  in  an  army  hospital. 

They  found  Oscar  looking  worn  and  haggard  after 
the  excitement  of  the  night,  the  long  watch  and  the 
lierce  battle  with  himself,  but  hard  at  work. 

While  the  doctor  was  probing  the  wound  and  mak- 
ing his  examination,  Oscar  and  Charlie  stood  at  the 
little  window,  looking  down  the  wild  mining  gulch. 

"  How  in  the  world  could  you  do  this  for  that  fiend  ?" 
Charlie  asked  abruptly. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Oscar  said,  shaking  his  head. 
"  Somehow  I  can't  seem  to  help  it.  I  don't  believe 
he'll  escape,  but  I  think  that  after  all  I  would  rather 
have  him  go,  than  think  always  that  I  did  it  when  he 
couldn't  protect  himself." 

301 


362  "  I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

"  Maybe  you're  right,  Oscar,"  Charlie  replied. 
"  At  any  rate,  if  that's  the  way  you  feel,  I'd  certainly 
act  it  out.  But  if  it  were  my  case,  I  would  lift  that 
man's  scalp  and  wear  it  for  a  charm,  like  an  Indian." 

"  Is  this  fellow  anything  in  particular  to  either  of 
you?"  the  doctor  asked,  coming  to  the  window. 

"  We.  never  set  eyes  on  him  before,"  Charlie  an- 
swered quickly. 

"  I  never  saw  him  till  last  night,"  Oscar  replied 
more  slowly. 

"  Well,  he's  pretty  well  fixed  for  dust,  I'm  told, 
but  there's  no  use  sending  to  Leadville  to  hunt  up 
friends,  for  he  hasn't  got  any  there,"  the  doctor  con- 
tinued. "  I  don't  know  whether  he's  got  folks  some- 
where else  or  not ;  but  whatever  he  wants  to  do  with 
his  dust,  he's  got  to  do  it  pretty  sudden.  He'll  start 
off  without  it  before  sunup  to-morrow.  There's  noth- 
ing I  can  do  for  him.  The  youngster's  done  all  there's 
any  use  in.  'Twon't  stretch  him  out  more'n  a  few 
hours,  but  if  you  think  it's  worth  your  while  to  keep 
on  with  what  you're  doing,  it'll  ease  him  along  a  little. 
He's  coming  to  himself,  I  see,  and  it's  likely  he'll  bo 
tolerably  clear  from  now  on  till  he  dies.  I  must  be 
goin'  now,  for  I've  got  to  get  back.  Is  there  anything 
I  can  do  for  you  in  Leadville?" 

"  Look  a-here,  doctor,"  Charlie  said  in  a  low  tone. 
"  It's  true  that  neither  of  us  ever  saw  that  man  till 
this  trip,  but  we  know  a  pile  about  him  that's  not  to 


"I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE."  363 

his  praise.  In  fact,  that's  what  brought  us  here  from 
Manitoba.  We  just  got  in  last  night,  and  the  first 
thing  the  youngster  saw  him  taking  that  stage,  and 
was  afraid  he  was  going  to  skip,  and  followed  to  see 
which  trail  he  took.  That's  how  he  happened  to  be 
on  hand.  Now  if  he's  going  to  die,  and  he's  the  coward 
I  think  he  is,  the  chances  are  that  he'll  have  a  powerful 
weight  o'  something  besides  dust  to  unload ;  and  it 
strikes  me  that  it'll  be  for  the  best  good  of  all  con- 
cerned to  have  the  unloading  done  in  proper  shape.  If 
you  don't  mind  sending  down  the  best  lawyer  in  Lead- 
ville,  quick  as  he  can  get  here,  I  think  it'll  be  a  wise 
thing.  Here's  a  hundred-dollar  bill  for  our  part,  in 
case  it  proves  a  fool's  errand." 

"  It  strikes  me  that's  a  pretty  clean  idea,  that'll  pan 
out  well,"  the  doctor  replied,  putting  the  bill  in  his 
pocket.  "  I'll  have  the  right  man  here  as  soon  as 
horses  can  cover  the  ground ;  but  he  won't  die  before 
night,"  and  with  that  he  went  out. 

Very  slowly  the  wounded  man  came  back  to  con- 
sciousness, and  even  Charlie  found  himself  working 
as  hard  as  Oscar;  but  with  him,  as  he  took  every 
opportunity  to  explain  to  Oscar,  it  was  only  a  savage 
determination  that  the  man  should  not  die  till  after 
the  lawyer  came. 

"  You  saved  my  life  last  night,  and  I  shall  pay  you 
\\«  11  for  it,"  the  man  muttered,  as  Oscar  bent  over 
him,  bathing  the  wound.  "  I  feel  better  now,  only  a 


364  "  I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

little  weak.  I  shall  be  all  right  in  the  morning.  You 
don't  think  there's  any  clanger  of  my  dying,  do  you?" 
And  an  hour  later,  after  drinking  something  which 
the  innkeeper  had  prepared  for  him,  he  whispered : 
"  I  feel  better.  O,  yes !  I  certainly  feel  better.  I 
am  not  going  to  die." 

Oscar  and  Charlie  decided  that  it  would  be  better 
to  tell  the  lawyer  all  they  knew  before  he  saw  the 
wounded  man,  that  he  might  understand  better  what 
they  expected. 

The  man  was  sleeping-,  and  they  stood  together  at 
the  window  as  some  one  drove  up  from  Leadville. 
It  was  doubtless  the  lawyer,  and  Charlie  quickly  left 
the  room  to  meet  him ;  while  Oscar,  still  standing  by 
the  window,  also  recognized  in  him  the  man  he  saw 
at  the  corner  of  the  alley  the  night  before,  offering  a 
million  and  a  half  for  the  mining  claim.  Doctors  or 
lawyers,  boot-blacks  or  newsboys,  living  in  Leadville, 
were,  almost  of  necessity,  interested  in  mining.  It 
was  so  much  in  the  atmosphere  that  they  could  not 
help  it. 

Charlie  had  only  been  gone  a  moment  when  the 
man  awoke.  It  was  evident  that  his  strength  was 
failing.  He  pointed  to  a  glass  of  water  standing  on 
the  table,  and  drank  it  ravenously ;  then  looking  up, 
he  whispered : 

"  I  have  seen  you  before.  Do  you  live  in  Lead- 
ville?" 


"  I    AM    AFRAID   TO    DIE."  365 

Oscar  shook  his  head. 

"In  Dead  wood?"  the  man  asked. 

Again  Oscar  shook  his  head. 

4i  I  have  surely  seen  you  somewhere,"  the  man  said 
feebly,  closing  his  eyes  as  if  trying  to  think. 

Sunburned,  weather-beaten,  developed  and  hardened 
by  trials,  dangers,  exposure  and  sharp  experiences  with 
the  stern  realities  of  life,  it  was  a  very  different  face 
from  the  schoolboy's  he  had  seen,  and  yet  it  was  the 
same.  No  wonder  the  dying  man  remembered  it,  and 
yet  could  not  remember. 

He  opened  his  eyes  again  and  whispered : 

"Don't  you  remember  me?  Where  is  it  I  have 
seen  you?" 

More  in  pity  than  with  any  thought  of  revenge, 
Oscar  replied : 

"  You  may  have  seen  me,  but  I  never  saw  you  until 
last  night." 

"  Where  have  I  seen  you  ?  Your  face  haunts  me," 
the  man  said,  with  a  shudder.  "Tell  me  —  tell  me 
where  have  I  seen  you?" 

Oscar  thrust  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets,  lest 
they  should  move  before  he  could  stop  them,  as  he 
replied : 

"  You  saw  me  in  a  yacht,  on  the  shores  of  Manitoba 
Lake." 

"Who  are  you — who  are  you?"  the  wounded 
man  gasped,  starting  on  the  bed. 


366 


I    AM    AFKAID    TO    DIE. 


"  I   AM   OSCAR   PETERSON.' ' 

*'  I  am  Oscar  Peterson :  Ranchman  and  Ranger," 
Oscar  said ;  for  that  little  sign  had  become  so  firmly 
imbedded  in  every  thought,  as  a  vital  part  of  himself, 
that  in  the  intense  excitement  of  the  moment  the  words 
fell  from  his  lips  unconsciously,  as  though  he  was  re- 
peating only  his  name. 


"  I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE."  367 

For  a  moment  there  was  the  silence  of  death  in  the 
little  room.  The  wounded  man  shut  his  eyes,  and  a 
great  shudder  shook  the  very  bed  upon  which  he  was 
lying.  Oscar  was  afraid  he  was  dying,  and  was  upon 
the  point  of  going  for  Charlie,  when  he  opened  his  eyes 
again,  and  tried  to  call  for  help.  But  his  voice  was 
so  weak  that  it  could  not  have  been  heard  even  beyond 
the  thin  board  partitions  of  the  miner's  shanty  tavern. 

Oscar  stepped  back  a  little,  and  in  a  low  voice 
replied : 

"You  need  not  be  afraid  of  me.  I  have  had 
chances  enough  to  kill  you,  and  I  wanted  to  a  great 
deal  more  than  I  do  now.  You  killed  my  father! 
You  sneaking  coward !  You  killed  him  because  he 
trusted  you,  and  gave  you  a  chance  to  make  yourself 
rich  by  it.  But  I  have  not  hurt  you.  No  !  and  I  am 
not  going  to  now.  I  have  done  all  I  can  to  save  your 
life.  I  have  tried,  but  it's  no  use.  The  doctor  says 
that  no  power  can  keep  you  alive  until  sunrise 
to-morrow." 

"I  die?  I  will  not  die!  I  can't  die,"  the  man 
shrieked,  pushing  himself  up  till  he  leaned  upon  his 
elbow,  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  and  shook  his 
fist  at  Oscar.  "  You  take  that  back.  It  is  a  lie  !  It 
is  you  who  are  trying  to  kill  me,  but  I  will  not  die 
to-night.  You  wouldn't  kill  a  helpless  man,  would 
you?" 

Then  a  sudden  change  came  over  him,  and  opening 


368  "I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

his  clinched  hand,  he  stretched  it  toward  Oscar,  and 
his  voice  trembled  and  almost  failed  as  he  pleaded  : 

"  No,  no,  no  !  There  must  be  something  more  that 
you  can  do.  Oh !  try  again.  Try  just  once  more  to 
save  me,  for  I  do  not  want  to  die.  No,  110 !  I  cannot 
die." 

At  that  moment  Charlie  entered  with  the  lawyer. 

"  Halloo,  Bill !  "  the  latter  said,  in  a  cold,  careless 
way,  seating  himself  by  the  table,  with  paper,  pen  and 
ink.  "  Doc  Hutch  was  round  this  noon ;  said  you'd 
got  yer  come-upances  at  last,  and  couldn't  live  the 
night  out,  and  I'd  best  git  round  ter  see  if  yer  wanted 
to  put  anything  on  paper  'bout  by-gones,  'fore  yer 
went  across  ter  whar  they  say  thar  ain't  no  keepin' 
things  secret,  Bill.  Then  anything  ye've  got  ter  say 
about  the  stuff  yer  leavin'  behind  yer,  I'm  here  to 
write  it  down.  Don't  forget,  Bill,  that  this  is  the 
last  shovelful  ye'll  h'ist  out  o'  diggin's  on  this  side, 
an'  if  ye  want  yer  dirt  to  pan  out  anything,  when  it's 
washed  and  assayed  over  there,  you've  got  ter  have 
some  of  the  real  stuff  in  it,  even  if  it  goes  in  with  the 
very  last  shovelful.  Go  on,  now,  Bill ;  I'm  ready. 
You  do  the  talkiu'  an'  I'll  write  it  down.  Then  you 
can  sign  it,  and  they'll  know,  over  there,  what  it 
amounts  to.  Go  on !  " 

The  dying  man  was  thoroughly  sobered  by  this 
rough,  plain  statement.  He  was  silent  for  a  time, 
still  leuiing  against  the  wall ;  then,  speaking  slowly, 


"  I    AM    AFRAID   TO    DIE."  369 

in  a  low,  weak  voice,  and  pointing  a  trembling  hand 
toward  Oscar,  he  said  : 

"He  is  the  one  who  owns  that  claim  next  to  yours. 
It  belonged  to  his  father,  and  I  shot  him.  I  shot  him 
to  get  that  mine.  I  made  out  the  papers,  and  signed 
his  name  myself.  Write  it  down,  and  I'll  sign  it." 

The  lawyer  wrote,  and  the  dying  man  watched  him 
in  silence  till  the  last  word  was  transcribed  in  legal 

O 

form.  Then  he  made  a  struggle,  as  though  he  felt  life 
ebbing  and  would  drag  it  back  till  this,  at  least,  was 
accomplished,  and  steadying  himself  continued : 

"  There's  more  to  write.  That  farm  I  told  you  of 
—  the  one  I  offered  you  in  Manitoba  —  that  was  his 
father's.  I  had  an  old  deed  of  it,  which  he  used  to 
borrow  money  when  he  bought  the  mine.  I  made  a 
new  one.  I  copied  all  the  names.  Then  I  made  a  bill 
of  sale  and  signed  it.  They  are  recorded  in  Winnipeg. 
Every  name  on  them  but  the  Winnipeg  lawyer's  is  a 
forgery.  I  fooled  him.  Yes,  I  did  it;  and  it's  all 
fraud  —  all  fraud.  Write  it  down  and  I'll  sign  it. 
Write  it  down." 

Again   there  was  a  moment's  pause,  while  the  pen 
flew  over  the  paper;  but  this  time  the  man  was  in' 
greater  haste. 

"  Write  faster !  "  he  gasped  ;  "  and  write  that  my 
own  claims  —  you  know  them  —  and  everything  else 
I  hand  over  to  him.  Write  that  I'm  sorry  ;  write  it 
down,  and  I'll  sign  it.  I  haven't  any  relatives,  and 


370  "I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

Mr.  Peterson  was  about  the  only  friend  I  ever  had. 
I  killed  him.  Write  it  down.  Now,  quick !  Let  me 
sign  it." 

The  moment  the  lawyer  passed  him  the  pen,  he 
clutched  it,  and  leaned  over  the  table. 

"  What  ?  "  he  muttered.  "  You  want  my  real  name, 
too  —  the  old  name  ?  " 

A  sob  shook  the  dying  man  as  he  wrote  the  old 
name,  and  even  when  it  was  finished,  and  the  pen  had 
fallen  from  his  hand,  he  leaned  heavily  upon  the  edge 
of  the  bed,  still  staring  at  it. 

"  I  haven't  seen  that  name,"  he  said,  "  since  the  last 
time  my  mother  wrote  to  me  before  she  died ;  more'u 
twenty  years  ago." 

He  fell  back  on  the  pillow,  and  lifting  his  right 
hand  took  the  legal  oath. 

Charlie  signed  the  paper  as  one  witness,  and  he, 
too,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  tried  hard  to  hide  two 
glistening  tears  as  he  wrote  "  the  old  name  "  under  the 
one  by  which  he  was  known  on  the  plains.  His  occu- 
pation he  indicated  by  the  simple  word  "  Cowboy." 

When  it  came  to  Oscar  to  sign  the  paper,  he  had 
but  one  name  to  write ;  and  as  for  his  occupation,  it 
was  easily  indicated.  He  copied  the  old  sign;  and 
he,  too,  realized  a  strange  sensation,  but  it  came  from 
the  future  to  him,  not  from  the  past,  as  he  saw  the 
first  real  and  legal  imprint  of  the  dream  of  his  life : 

"  Oscar  Peterson  :  Ranchman  and  Ranger." 


"  I    AM    AFKA1D   TO    DIE."  371 

The  wounded  man  lay  with  his  eyes  shut,  breathing 
heavily.  The  lawyer  signed  and  sealed  the  paper,  and 
handed  it  to  Oscar  with  his  card,  saying : 

"  If  you  will  call  at  my  office  in  Leadville,  I  will 
see  that  this  is  put  through  all  right,  and  set  you  on 
the  track  of  your  property.  I  should  like  to  see  you 
before  you  take  any  steps  in  the  matter." 

Then  turning  to  the  bed  he  took  the  hand  that  had 
lost  a  finger,  lying  perfectly  still,  now,  on  the  cover, 
and  in  a  gentler  tone  than  he  had  spoken,  said : 

"  Good-by,  Bill!  I  guess  you've  done  a  straight 
thing  for  once,  any  way,  before  handing  in  your  checks. 
The  folks  this  side'll  give  ye  credit  for  it,  'tenerate, 
and  I  reckon  ye'll  find  it's  better  than  havin'  nuthin' 
at  all  to  stand  on,  at  the  Judgment  Day." 

Oscar  and  Charlie  were  left  alone  again  with  the 
poor  dying  wretch,  and  they  did  their  very  best  to 
relieve  his  last  moments.  There  was  no  longer  any 
thought  of  vengeance  or  revenge.  Such  feelings  were 
all  gone.  It  was  not  that  he  had  returned  the  prop- 
erty ;  surely  not  that  he  had  left  more.  It  is  doubt- 
ful if  a  thought  of  money  entered  the  minds  of  either 
of  them  as  they  worked.  In  Oscar's  mind,  at  least, 
only  one  thought  kept  on  and  on,  always  repeating 
that  sentence  —  '  Write  that  I'm  sorry  ; '  and  he  had 
nothing  but  pity  for  the  poor  frightened  coward  who 
was  struggling  and  trembling  upon  the  shelving  brink 
of  an  open  grave.  But  even  if  bitter  feelings  had 


372  "I    AM    AFRAID    TO    DIE." 

remained  ;  even  if  he  had  felt,  still,  as  he  did  while  sit- 
ting in  the  stage,  he  would  have  been  satisfied  —  more 
than  satisfied  —  that  he  had  waited.  He  would  have 
counted  his  revenge  more  perfect  than  if  his  hands  had 
followed  their  inclination,  and,  in  reality,  only  put  a 
villain  more  quickly  and  easily  out  of  agony. 

That  night  they  watched  a  scene  more  graphic  than 
all  the  preaching  and  teaching  in  the  world ;  while  a 
soul,  steeped  in  twenty  years  of  crime,  clung  to  the 
tottering  walls  of  the  wretched  cabin  it  had  polluted. 
"Don't  let  me  die.  I  can't  die,"  the  poor  fellow 
groaned.  "  Oh  !  try  something  more  !  Only  save 
me  till  morning  !  Only  one  hour  more  !  "  And  when 
his  strength  was  gone  —  all  gone ;  when  his  hands 
were  cold  and  his  lips  were  white,  and  his  glassy  eyes 
fixed  on  the  rude  rafters,  his  last,  gasping,  shuddering 
words  as  life  went  out,  were  : 

"  I  am  afraid  to  die." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   PAST   AND   THE    FUTURE. 

THE  sun  shone  over  Happy  Hollow  and  down  the 
gulch  beyond,  when  two  mourners  — »they  were  real 
mourners  —  followed  the  innkeeper's  mule  cart,  bear- 
ing a  plain  pine  box  that  covered  all  that  was  left  to 
earth  of  the  man  who  was  afraid  to  die. 

There  were  a  dozen  or  more  graves  upon  the  hill- 
side, about  the  one  which  had  been  dug  that  morning. 
They  were  all  alike  ;  with  wooden  head-pieces,  and 
nothing  more. 

Whatever  respect  they  could  show  to  senseless  clay 
was  freely  extended  to  the  dead,  and  when  that  was 
accomplished,  they  paid  the  innkeeper  and  returned 
to  Leadville. 

The  lawyer  had  studied  carefully  upon  the  case,  as 
there  were  many  complications  in  the  way  of  an 
immediate  settlement. 

"It  will  be  different,"  he  said,  "with  the  Mani- 
toba estate.  This  acknowledgment  of  forgery  will  be 

373 


374        THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE. 

sufficient.  By  the  appointment  of  a  guardian  you  will 
be  able  to  take  possession  there  at  once.  This  tangle 
here  will  take  more  time  and  patience.  I  have  this 
proposition  to  make  to  you,  which  is  in  a  line  with  an 
offer  I  made  to  Bill,  the  night  he  was  shot.  The  origi- 
nal claim  of  yours  is  worth,  to  me,  one  million  and  a 
half.  You  might  make  it  pay  you  bigger  if  you  work 
it  just  right,  but  the  chances  are  it  wouldn't  do  half  so 
well  by  you.  The  other  claims  he  spoke  of  are  doubt- 
ful. They  may  pan  out  as  good  as  this  one,  but  their 
chances  are  better  for  nothing  than  they  are  for  much, 
and  I  don't  want  to  risk  too  much  on  chances.  I  will 
place  two  million  dollars  in  Government  bonds,  in  trust 
for  you,  the  interest  to  be  yours  as  it  falls  due,  the 
bonds  to  be  delivered  when  yon  are  twenty-one  years 
old,  in  exchange  for  a  clean  surrender  of  all  these 
claims  in  Leadville.  There  is  no  rush  about  it. 
Think  it  over  and  sleep  on  it.  Go  out  and  take  a 
look  at  the  claims  with  some  one  who  knows  what 
diggings  are,  and  come  in  to-morrow  morning  and  let 
me  know." 

Oscar  did  not  look  at  the  mines.  He  had  no  ambi- 
tion to  remain  in  Leadville,  under  any  circumstances. 
He  simply  went  to  Charlie  and  reported  the  lawyer's 
proposition. 

"Take  it  quick,"  Charlie  exclaimed. 

"•  That  would  be  one  way,"  Oscar  replied,  "  but 
there's  another  way  that  T  would  much  rather  do.  I 


THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE.         375 

would  like  to  turn  these  claims  over  to  you.  You  un- 
derstand mining,  and  can  run  them,  and  I  have  all 
that  I  could  possibly  use  or  care  for,  in  getting  back 
the  estate.  Won't  you  please  take  them,  Charlie  ?  " 

Charlie  slowly  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  slowly  lifted 
his  feet  to  the  table,  slowly  stuffed  his  hands  into 
his  pockets,  never  once  taking  his  eyes  from  Oscar. 
When  he  was  safely  balanced,  he  said  : 

"  Do  you  mean  take  the  claims  and  own  them  and 
run  them  for  myself  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  do  ;  and  please  do,  Charlie.  I  don't 
want  them  or  the  money." 

Charlie  stared  in  silence  for  a  moment,  then  he 
replied : 

"  I  must  say,  Oscar  Peterson,  you  are  about  as  reck- 
less and  about  as  brave  and  about  as  generous  as  any 
man  I  ever  struck,  in  real  life  or  a  story  book.  If  I 
hadn't  forgotten  my  Cicero  I'd  make  you  an  oration  ; 
but  whether  it  was  in  Greek  or  Latin,  in  good  straight 
English  or  only  in  imagination,  my  dear  friend,  it 
would  wind  up  just  the  same.  It  would  be  as  full  of 
admiration  and  appreciation  and  of  thanks  as  it  was  of 
words,  Oscar,  but  it  would  have  to  wind  up  with  *  ex- 
cuse me,  please.'  For  the  fact  is  I  don't  want  it.  I 
shouldn't  know  what  to  do  with  it  if  I  had  it,  and  be- 
sides, I  have  every  prospect  of  striking  another  job, 
within  a  day  or  two,  that  is  much  more  to  my  taste, 
though  there  may  not  so  much  dust  wash  out  of  it." 


376         THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE. 

"Another  job!  Where?"  Oscar  asked,  and  his 
face  fell. 

"  Well,  it's  a  friend  of  mine,"  Charlie  replied, 
slowly.  "He  owns  a  big  ranch  and  range.  He's  a 
good  fellow,  and  has  struck  it  rich,  lately.  I  flatter 
myself  he'll  be  good  enough  to  give  me  the  care  of 
.that  ranch  if  I  ask  him,  and  I'd  rather  have  it  than 
forty  mines." 

"  Where  is  it,  Charlie  ?  "  Oscar  asked,  and  his  lip 
quivered  in  spite  of  him. 

"  Why,  it's  up  alongside  of  Manitoba  Lake,"  Charlie 
said.  "  Do  you  think  I  can  get  a  job  ?  " 

Oscar  did  not  reply,  for  he  had  very  nearly  upset 
Charlie's  chair,  in  the  vigor  with  which  he  grabbed  his 
hand.  A  moment  later  Charlie  continued  :  "  I  knew 
how  it  would  all  turn  out.  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  at  the 
ranch-house,  when  you  wanted  me  to  pack  up  all  my 
outfit  and  have  it  sent  South  ?  And  now  if  you  will 
excuse  me  from  stopping  in  Leadville,  I'm  in  a  fu- 
rious  hurry  to  get  back  to  the  ranch,  for  if  those  cattle 
are  handled  right,  in  the  fall  round  up,  there'll  be 
a  pile  of  good  money  to  show  for  it." 

So  they  went  back  to  Manitoba  together.  This 
time  they  went  all  the  way  by  rail,  with  two  of  the 
horses  and  Panza  alone  in  a  large  padded  car,  char- 
tered for  their  sole  use.  They  stopped  at  Winnipeg 
to  adjust  the  title  to  the  estate,  which  was  easily  ac- 
complished, and  when  that  matter  was  settled,  and  the 


THE    PAST    AND    THE    FUTURE.  377 

lawyer  who  did  the  work  had  been  paid,  Charlie  was 
turning  to  leave,  still  anxious  to  be  on  the  way ;  but 
Oscar  caught  him  by  the  arm,  exclaiming  : 

"  Hold  on  one  minute,  Charlie.  There's  one  more 
thing  to  do.  I  haven't  spoken  of  it,  because  I  knew 
you  would  try  to  crawl  out,  in  some  way,  but  it  can't 
be  done.  I  never  should  have  seen  an  acre  of  that 
estate  again  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  and  you  have 
confessed  that  you  want  to  stay  there.  Now,  you  are 
going  into  partnership  with  me,  and  we  are  going  to 
start  in  with  the  whole  estate,  as  stock  in  trade,  share 
and  share  alike.  There's  110  getting  out  of  it.  The 
papers  are  all  made  out,  like  the  mine  matter,  as  well 
as  they  can  be  till  I  am  twenty-one,  and  you  have  got 
to  sign  them,  and  sign  them  quickly,  without  a  word. 
I  tell  you  straight,  I  will  not  go  back  to  Manitoba 
Lake,  until  you  do." 

"  That's  biz.  Load  up  a  pen  and  I'll  blaze  away,'' 
Charlie  replied,  in  that  happy  abandon  with  which  he 
surrendered,  either  to  the  highwaymen  or  to  Oscar,  when 
he  found  they  had  "  the  drop  "  on  him,  as  gracefully 
and  cheerfully  as  though  it  were  something  he  had 
been  anticipating  and  arranging  for  all  the  time. 

The  last  day  they  made  again  on  horseback,  and  it 
was  as  full  of  happiness  and  hope  as  the  first  day  had 
been  full  of  sadness  and  anxiety.  Oscar  had  succeeded 
in  forcing  back  the  tears  as  he  looked  for  the  last  time 
upon  the  disappearing  butte  ;  but  he  did  not  even  try 


378         THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE. 

to  restrain  them  as  he  saw  the  familiar  outline  rise 
slowly  out  of  the  clear  horizon  in  front  of  them,  and 
marked  the  sharp  lines  of  the  little  speck  of  black 
upon  its  summit,  which  meant  that  he  was  almost 
home. 

During  the  day  they  planned  out  their  future. 
Charlie  was  to  take  the  ranch  and  range  under  his 
special  care.  Oscar  was  to  have  the  stock  farm  and 
wheat  fields,  and  if  they  found  that  the  keeper  who 
had  been  in  charge  during  their  absence,  was  the  man 
they  thought  him,  and  would  accept  the  position,  he 
was  to  have  the  mines  under  his  direction,  upon  a 
salary  or  commission. 

There  was  but  one  cloud  which  darkened  the  joy  of 
their  return,  and  even  that  had  its  silver  lining. 

Their  very  first  inquiries  were  concerning  their 
mysterious  Indian.  Oscar  could  scarcely  believe  his 
senses  when  the  keeper  assured  them  that  it  was  none 
other  than  Wenononee,  the  little  Indian  girl,  who  had 
followed  them  ;  but  when  they  heard  the  story  of  the 
way  she  stole  Sancho  from  the  stable,  and  then  came 
back  and  told  the  keeper,  saying  that  they  would 
starve  and  freeze  and  die  before  they  would  let  the 
young  master  suffer  such  a  sacrifice  to  save  them,  and 
how  she  had  touched  his  heart  and  made  him  ashamed 
of 'the  part  he  had  played,  till  he  was  only  too  glad  to 
help  her  carry  out  the  rest  of  her  plan,  Charlie  turned 
to  Oscar,  saying : 


THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTURE.        370 

"  Didn't  I  have  the  right  of  it  when  I  stuck  to  it 
that  you'd  been  doing  something  for  an  Indian  ?  " 

The  cloud  came  when  they  learned  the  rest :  that 
Wenononee  had  walked  all  the  way  back,  safely  return- 
ing the  rifle,  the  belt,  and  the  pistol,  but  that  exposure 
and  hardship  had  so  thoroughly  broken  her  down  that 
she  was  rapidly  following  her  mother,  who  died  while 
she  was  away. 

Oscar  felt  as  though  he  could  willingly  have  given 
his  life  to  save  hers,  and,  though  that  was  impossible, 
money  and  kindness  were  lavished  upon  her  till  her 
last  months  of  life  were  made  so  peaceful  and  happy 
that  she  said  : 

"  Me  heap  too  glad  for  Indian  girl.  When  Great 
Spirit  speak  and  Weno  go,  she  cannot  know  the  dif- 
ference. This  Heaven.  That  Heaven.  If  here,  if 
there,  all  Heaven." 

That  was  the  silver  lining. 

Oscar  and  Charlie  were  standing,  one  day,  by 
Weno's  arm-chair,  just  outside  the  cabin  door.  They 
had  been  looking  backward,  while  Weno  recounted  a 
part  of  her  journey,  and  told  them  how  they  had  missed 
a  warning  she  had  put  up ;  that  they  should  not  stop 
at  the  squatter's  sod  house. 

"  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Charlie,"  Oscar  said,  "  I 
learned  more  about  farming  and  ranching  and  ranging, 
about  mining  and  hunting  and  holding  my  own,  on 
that  trip,  than  I  might  in  a  lifetime,  without  it ;  but 


380        THE  PAST  AND  THE  FUTUKE. 

the  best  and  biggest  lesson  of  all  is  what  I've  learned 
about  people.  No  matter  what  color  of  skin  or  kind 
of  clothes-  makes  one  differ  from  another,  how  the 
heart  does  show  through ;  and  what  a  world  of  differ- 
ence it  makes  with  the  evening,  whether  the  sun  is  set- 
ting in  clouds  or  in  a  clear  sky.  I  wish  that  every- 
body in  this  world  who  thinks  enough  of  gold  to  wrong 
another  to  obtain  it,  could  see  the  sun  go  down  in  such 
a  storm  as  we  saw  it  in  the  gulch  by  Happy  Hollow, 
and  then  come  here  and  sit  for  an  hour  in  the  beautiful 
light  of  Wenononee's  sunset." 


000  036  527     0 


